The Impalpable Ash
by walked-into-the-sky
Summary: You can sit beside me at the end of the world. KuramaShizuru.
1. Part I

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a disclaimer.

Title inspired by the poem "If You Forget Me" by Pablo Neruda.

"The course of true love never did run smooth." -William Shakespeare (inspiration)

**Part I**

She's not going to say she's happy in her boring human life because lying just isn't her style.

--

Kazuma called her again today, requesting a lunch at some upscale restaurant in his new neighborhood where he probably hung out with all his new, upper class friends. She didn't call him back, she didn't know why he kept trying because she never did, and part of her hated herself for it.

She went to the grocery store and saw a young couple dancing in one of the aisles, her holding a box of teeth rotting cereal, him holding a bag of flour. It struck her then that she hadn't been in a relationship since before the "demon years" and she snorted bitterly, cursing her inability to just _let it go_.

Later, surrounded by her empty bottles of liquor and her spent cigarettes, it struck her that maybe she just didn't want to and she hadn't really realized it yet.

--

She ran into Keiko in a tiny side street market. It had been nine months since she had seen her last at the necessary outing that was Kazuma's twenty third birthday party.

"How are you?" the younger woman squealed, all sophistication forgotten and drawing the stares of multiple older women. On her back a baby version of Yusuke waved fat little arms and looked at her as if he felt her pain and wanted just as much as she to escape.

She mumbled out a lie about a business meeting after deflecting several needling questions about her personal life-lack thereof, really, but Keiko didn't need to know that. Her former best friend-no kidding herself with this one, when she had been in her twenties her best friend was a teenage girl-looked hurt but managed to hide the adolescent pout that threatened to take her lips. Little Yusuke saved her then, screeching about a "poo poo" and embarrassing his mother so badly that, flaming red, she sputtered out an apology and ducked into the nearest store.

Shizuru made a note to herself to give that kid a present, preferably someday soon so her monotone life didn't suck the reminder from her brain like it did every other emotion and thought.

Maybe that was overdramatizing things, but when she looked in the mirror that evening it certainly didn't feel that way.

--

She saw him on a sidewalk in Tokyo in June and threw herself into the nearest alleyway so she could properly spy on him. He looked beautiful, of course, he always had been, but there was an absence of life in his eyes that she recognized and it made her feel sick. His red hair was just as long as ever and, when he reached up to brush it aside she was sure he looked once, quickly, directly at her. Seconds later she was sure she had imagined it as Kurama had a brilliant life now and surely he didn't even remember the likes of poor, miserable, pathetic her.

He was on the front of the local newspaper three days later, labeled most famous hometown boy or some crap like that, with a black and white full body photo to match. It didn't suit him, Kurama was color, was life, and that photo made him feel dead in her mind. That didn't stop her from taping it on her fridge, along with the article about successful small businessmen. She wasn't even sure of what his career was, if she was being honest, and she didn't really read the story, merely skimmed it, zeroing in on his human name and obsessing over what it would look like if it was added to her own.

She didn't notice the article on the back of Kurama's front page spread, didn't see the news on the "Psychic Investigation", and most certainly did not become worried, especially not about herself.

--

In September she made the monumental mistake of answering her phone.

"Shizuru?!" her brother's voice was so loud it cracked in her receiver and she drew the plastic away from her ear grimacing, "Shizuru, where have you been?! Have you seen the news?!"

She really wanted to stop the call then and there, because she knew he had a degree in political science and she knew he thought she was ignorant and she really didn't need a reminder in the form of the daily fucking news. But she was tired so she simply told him "no" and waited for some explanation as to why he was so frantic, but he was talking to someone-Yukina, they're living together-and seemed to have momentarily forgotten he had her on the phone.

"Honey, I promise you everything will be okay, I'd die before I let anything happen to you. Just don't call Hiei; he'll try to kill everyone, okay?" Kazuma was practically cooing and she wondered how Yukina could stomach it. Then what he was saying hit her and it occurred to her that maybe she should turn on the news if Kazuma was swearing to protect Yukina with his life again.

But her brother was in her ear again, spewing some nonsense about "psychic exposure" and "raids" and "I'm just asking you to lay low, okay, sis?" She ignored him, in search of her remote on her hands and knees with the phone cradled between her shoulder and head. Her heart hadn't beaten this fast since Tokyo.

"…mixed reports are coming in of a captured psychic, though no one has been able to confirm," the clean cut, zombie like anchor woman was intoning, her eyes uninterested and her face the picture of womanly perfection and what the hell was going on?

She managed to get this out to Kazuma around the suffocating lump in her throat and he went off on a tirade about "Sensui was right" and "humans suck" and "intolerance" and "someone got busted bending a spoon or something, we don't know the details." The Reikai, he continued, was in a frenzy, damage control was all but failing, and Koenma had a full scale human crisis on his hands that no Tantei could handle. Humans managed to build a psychic detecting machine they called, so creatively, the Detector and they had set up special units with Trackers dedicated to the cause. "You should suppress at all times," yeah she had guessed that already, she wasn't a fucking child. And how had she missed all this anyways, had she been living under a rock?

She had been, but she wouldn't admit it, and at this point the only thing she could really do was stay there because that was safest.

Right?

--

Work required Tokyo and Tokyo meant the very real possibility of laying her hungry eyes on Kurama again.

The Crisis, as the Reikai had labeled it, wasn't exactly under control to say the least. Detector sweeps were beginning in every major city and the best she could do was suppress when she was caught in Osaka and, because she managed to stay in the crowd and under the radar-literally and figuratively-she escaped.

She both wanted to go to Tokyo-on the off chance of seeing Kurama-and wanted to wimp out, but she was afraid of making the wrong move with her boss and raising suspicions, so she agreed to go negotiate the stupid liquor deal with the stupid what's-its-name-bar in the downtown area. The trip was four hours so she got a hotel room in one of the quieter neighborhoods before going to get the papers signed, a feat she achieved in record time because she brilliantly left the top button of her blouse unbuttoned.

The walk to her hotel began devoid of human presence, something that bothered her in a city as populated and as popular as Tokyo. She wrote it off as the back roads she took and the Tuesday morning that is was because thinking it could be something else was just a little too real for her at the moment. She wandered along sidewalks lined with tiny, dark bookshops and restaurants and it never occurred to her to suppress or to look over her shoulder to see if she had attracted attention because this was Tokyo and there were millions of people there for Enma's sake. She didn't even notice the footsteps until they were on top of her and there was nowhere to run but into a solid brick wall.

The Detector was much less menacing than she thought it would be; the man was far more frightening with his black hair and his almost insanely triumphant brown eyes. He grinned wickedly at her as he took out the gun-she had heard of those, some sort of chemical imbalance neutralized psychic powers and of course the humans discovered it and created bullets that carried it-and she pressed her back against the wall and prayed for the first time since she was seven and her mother came home drunk and her father began to ignore them all.

"Well, well, well, a little girl psychic, how fun for me," he hissed and she realized his breath smelled like liquor and she wondered vaguely where all the bravery she had had seven years ago when she picked fights with demons and beat up monsters had gone and why she had let it leave.

It happened so fast she literally didn't understand it until, a minute later, she realized the Tracker's head was on the ground and his body was lying three feet away from it and bleeding profusely from the neck. She looked up, saw crimson, and started sobbing so hard she was sure she would vomit. Strong arms wrapped around her and they sank to the ground in unison, Kurama not saying a word, Shizuru babbling unintelligible apologies for putting him in that position, and the horrible silence that followed a murder blanketing everything else.

"Kurama, I-!"

He shook his head and pulled her to her feet, holding her steady when she swayed against the wall, "My apartment's not far," he murmured and she had never hated herself more than she did in that moment.

His hand was warm in hers as he lead her from the side street and into plain sight.

--

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	2. Part II

"I'd cheat destiny just to be near you."-Anna Nalick

**Part II**

She woke up sick to her stomach in an unfamiliar bed that could only be Kurama's. She barely made it to the bathroom.

He must have heard her, because he descended quickly, his emerald eyes worried and wary, his hands rubbing her back, and his long red tresses tied back into a ponytail. Shizuru wanted to kiss him, but she knew she'd taste like vomit and that was never a good idea for a first kiss. So she emptied the meager contents of her stomach before leaning back against the chocolate brown wall beside her and surveying his master bathroom. It was simple, elegant, filled with creams and beiges and excellent taste. But did that really surprise her?

"Do you feel well enough to eat?" he asked softly, still touching her, his fingers light on her shoulder, "I have coffee and an excellent selection of cereals."

He was trying to make this easier on her and she appreciated it, but there was nothing that could erase the tension that had been lurking between them for years and was showing no signs of letting up. Shizuru had no idea as to when, where and why these feelings weighed heavy in the air between them, though part of her had idea and it wasn't one she liked. Sometime around the Sensui disaster, maybe, when he found out about the idiocy with Sakyo and had looked at her with pity. Or maybe it had always been there but, coward as she was when it came to these things, she ignored it with everything she had. _That_ wouldn't surprise her because really, that's who she was.

"Cereal sounds fine," she replied, her voice horribly hoarse and oh how she wanted a cigarette, just one for something to focus on other than red hair and pale faces and how good he looks in the suit he's wearing.

She must have passed out before they reached the apartment, she certainly didn't remember their arrival, and flushed at the idea of him having to carry her. It wasn't the first time but her memories are vague of collapsing buildings and a purple high school uniform. She had been in his arms, though, that much she knew for certain and it was a fact she held onto viciously. Kurama helped her stand but let her leave the bathroom unaided, following at a safe distance and watching her so carefully the only real feeling she had was of his eyes on the back of her neck.

His bedroom, she noticed, was just as beautiful, if not more so than the bathroom with its pale reds and golds and its magnificent oak furniture. She stared for a moment before forcing herself to walk to the door and out into the light blue and green sitting room of what she now realized must have been not Kurama's apartment but Kurama's fucking penthouse. The kitsune had outstripped them all, left them in the dust, and now she was surprised that he even remembered her name, much less was willing to put himself on the line to save her worthless skin.

She spun on him, eyes wide with unsuppressed horror, and clutched at the front of his suit jacket wildly, ignoring how utterly caught off guard he looked and whispering frantically, "Kurama, the Tracker, what-?"

He placed his hands over hers, a brilliant ploy to shock her into silence, and smiled weakly, affectionately, his head leaning closer to hers in what seemed to be an unconscious action, "It's alright, they found him just over an hour ago, there's no way they can link him to us."

_Us_, not _me_. Shizuru knew she was reading too much into that but at this point she didn't give a damn, even if it would only lead to bitter and heartbreaking and miserable disappointment.

He did have a lot of cereal. She chose the blandest.

--

Shizuru went home with Kurama's open ended offer of a place to stay anytime she was in Tokyo and she knew, without a doubt, that no matter what she claimed before she left for the city about "hotel rooms" and "not wanting to be a burden", she would always take him up on it. The kitsune had been a brilliant host, had been charming, had been everything he had in the past, rekindling her guilty feelings of desire and really, this had to stop because it was getting her hopes up and hope was crap, everyone knew that.

She started watching the news after the Incident and psychics were disappearing a dozen a day, making her wonder how the Reikai was allowing this, it was an atrocity not seen in centuries, running deeper than even human mistreatment of demons because, really, psychics were humans too. How the normal humans couldn't see that was beyond her, this was ridiculous, someone needed to step in and now. She wanted to see Koenma himself, just to punch him for even thinking a secretive effort would work. The world was crumbling and it was only a matter of time before it fell apart.

Kazuma called her twice a day now, just to make sure she "hadn't been caught", though what he meant was "hadn't done anything stupid" and she didn't tell him about Tokyo and Kurama because that would have just been fuel for the fire. As annoying as the calls were, they also brought her comfort because this way she knew her brother was alive without having to show that she was worried. And she wasn't the worrier, she had never been the worrier, and starting to worry now would only freak Kazuma out more.

Yusuke came to see her and he was reverting back to his old teenage, "I hate authority" self with the psychic round up the humans were pulling and she couldn't say she wasn't glad for it. He was trying to talk some sense into Koenma, though apparently Enma's sense overruled Yusuke's, which made her want to vomit because she knew what that meant. More sitting around and hoping it would die down while thousands of her peers just died because the Reikai was too stupid or too cowardly or both to do a fucking thing about it.

They got drunk together, Yusuke nearly sobbing about the crap life his son was going to be landed with and Shizuru wishing she had a son to agonize over, preferably a redheaded one.

--

Full body Detectors were created and Koenma wasn't sure that suppressing would be enough anymore so he called a meeting of his former detective teams at the former site of Genkai's temple, which the old psychic had destroyed to throw the humans off her scent. "If you do get caught and the Detection is required," he told them, "there may be no way to fool it. So don't get caught." Yusuke snorted at this and Kuroko Sanada had to yell at her children when they made foul faces at the Reikai Prince's back and Shizuru stared at Kurama, watching as he bit his lip in thought, clearly trying to find a way around this new development.

Judging by the look on his face when the meeting broke up, it was obvious that he couldn't find an answer and Shizuru's heart sank.

--

She got a call a month later from Yusuke saying that it wasn't safe for him and his wife anymore so they were going to the Reikai for a while and she was welcome to join them. She didn't even consider, shaking her head as he made the offer, and telling him she had no children, she had no dependents, and she was staying as long as she could, damn it. Kazuma was still around, after all, and she wasn't sure he could handle taking care of Yukina and himself without having a nervous breakdown and she wasn't going to let a bunch of idiot humans with their little Detectors and guns scare her away.

Kurama called her the week after that, telling her to travel in large crowds because they singled out the stragglers and her heart swelled in her chest with the concern in his voice.

--

Yukina showed up at her apartment looking nothing short of terrified and whispering she was pregnant and she didn't know how to tell Kazuma and they would have to leave like Yusuke, Keiko and Akio because they were _scanning the bellies of pregnant women what the hell_? Shizuru tried to stay calm, called her brother, and they had a conference about what to do, deciding they had to leave now because, despite the suspicion that could and would arise, it was better than waiting and having to kill to get out.

They were gone the next day, Genkai with them and suddenly she and Kurama were the only ones left.

--

They were both too proud to leave and they each knew it so neither of them bothered to tell the other to do so when they talked. Their phone conversations had multiplied to twice a week as a form of comfort to each other, to know that there was still someone nearby who understood. Kurama told her his step father had jumped on the anti-psychic band wagon and she felt a surge of hatred for the Hakatana man, wondering what he would say if his beloved and prodigal step son grew a million roses with the flick of a wrist in his presence and commented to the kitsune that she would pay to see that facial expression, earning a soft and magnificent laugh.

--

She and Hiei evidently chose to visit Kurama at the same time in January and the fire youkai was furious.

They sat in Kurama's sitting room in a strange sort of triangle and drank Kurama's red wine and Hiei snarled his disgust with humanity and they listened patiently, knowing he was furious his sister had been in danger and that was the real reason he was spewing hatred.

"Stupid humans, turning against their own kind because they're fucking different," he looked scornfully at Kurama over his wine glass, "why you stay here is beyond me."

"Demons do the same thing," Kurama replied, his eyes meeting Shizuru's for a fraction of a second before skirting off to stare out over his balcony at his spectacular view of downtown Tokyo and absentmindedly swirling his wine in a gentle circle, "on a daily basis."

"But demons admit it," Hiei said flatly and Shizuru couldn't help but flinch and she thanked the gods Hiei didn't notice. Kurama made a soft noise of agreement before draining what was left of the wine in his glass and closing his eyes.

Shizuru cried herself to sleep that night because Hiei was right and she knew it and she couldn't handle it, she couldn't _fucking_ handle it.

--

She began to wonder why Kurama stayed, his mother wasn't a psychic so she was safe and being around his step father had to be nothing short of torture. They continued their biweekly phone calls and he took her out for dinner sometimes, quietly requesting that she eat and that she was looking ill. She knew she wasn't in good shape, she was drinking a lot more lately and she was staying in her house with her cigarettes and her misery every night except Kurama nights.

If he noticed her depression and the steadily weakening wall around her feelings for him, he didn't let on, he just offered a shoulder to lean on because that's what she needed to survive and obviously he felt obligated to make sure she did.

--

The news was plastered with video of the first public psychic execution, or rather, the first time a psychic had the nerve to fight back and had landed himself shot dead in the middle of a crowded street in New York City. The first thing Shizuru did when she saw it was purge herself. The second thing she did was call Kurama.

He hadn't seen the news yet that day, but when he did turn it on, his comments were acidic.

"This is going too far. Koenma has to make a move now, public killings…"

She couldn't help but ask because she had to know, "Are they killing psychics when they catch them?"

She could almost see the look of pure rage on his face when he replied, "Not directly. The prisons are disease ridden, under supplied…they don't have to do anything other than put them in there. The sickness and starvation does the rest."

Koenma should have stepped in the second those prisons opened, the thought itself made her want to personally kill every single one of the world wide leaders who thought that this was a good idea. Kurama read her mind and continued softly, "Koenma's been trying _not_ to alert the politicians behind this of the Reikai's existence, for obvious reasons."

"But there are other ways," she protested, swallowing the bile in her throat and trying not to sound miserable and rather determined.

"There are other ways," Kurama echoed softly and he sounded so tired it brought tears to her eyes.


	3. Part III

"Just our hands clasped so tight."-Death Cab for Cutie

**Part III**

"Why did you kill him?"

Dinners with Kurama often meant dressing up, and her little black, red, and purple dresses had been dragged out of her closet after years of dormancy. She wondered vaguely if there was a reason for his choice of restaurant, he always brought her to this fancy place or that beautiful hotel and it seemed a little more than something between "just friends" or whatever they were at that point. She didn't want to comment though, for fear of breaking the spell because she was just so happy, despite the whole psychic eradication thing.

He had been in the middle of taking a sip of wine when she blurted out the question-white today, though his preference leaned towards red, he was in the oddest of moods this evening-and he lowered his glass slowly and regarded her thoughtfully over the rim. He knew, of course, who she was talking about and even if it wasn't as firmly as ingrained in his memory as it was in hers, it had to be in the forefront of his mind every time he saw a Tracker. Even Kurama was not immune to what if scenarios, no matter how bad they could get in their twisted and terrified imaginations.

"Because had I just knocked him out, he would have remembered you," he said mildly and Shizuru knew that was a lie and she knew that it was now or never to call him out on it.

"You've got plants for that," she decided was the best way to approach it and it came out confidently to her immense relief. The waiter appeared then and Kurama spared him the barest of glances, flicking his hand at the now empty wine bottle and choosing to stare at the chandelier in the middle of what had to be Tokyo's finest five star restaurant, his brow furrowed in his contemplation. The man disappeared to fetch another bottle-their food had long since disappeared, they'd been sitting there for hours-and Kurama finally seemed to settle on a half satisfying answer, for his part.

"There are no guarantees, Shizuru," he said softly over his tented fingers, and all she could see was green, green, green, "Besides, he would have done the same to you, had I not intervened."

Things were changing between them and at this point she wasn't sure if she was too scared to make a move or if she was just stupid.

--

Impulse seized her when he walked her to the door of her apartment later and, slightly drunk and slightly wild, she grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss under the overhang in front of the complex's main entrance because she _knew_ their relationship had changed and she _knew_ he was too gentlemanly to do anything about it. He was taller than her and she was so surrounded by crimson, violently reflecting the blood of her peers and the tears came as she sank against him, curled into his chest, and begged for some sort of reason. He held her, closer than he really had to, his hands on the small of her back, on her shoulder blades, dancing up and down, up and down her spine. She hadn't cried this hard since the first time in Tokyo and he tolerated it, though she wondered why because she was sure now she had made a spectacular mess of things by assuming that he, of all beautiful people, could possibly be the slightest interested in her.

--

A prominent American politician's son was discovered as a psychic and Japanese authorities were quickly getting scared and turning on each other. She wondered when the government would collapse; anticipating the freedom it would allow with fierce desire and it was so hard to wait for the humans to botch this up, really.

She no longer thought of herself as human because she knew that if they knew they wouldn't think of her as human. She identified more with what Kurama and Yusuke were, with the half breed existence and decided that the Makai was more honest than the Ningenkai could ever be. She smoked cigarettes on her apartment's small balcony and she watched a red sun set every night and she wondered how many innocents had died that day, a hundred, a thousand, and where they civilians or had the higher ups finally resorted to killing each other in their growing paranoia.

Kurama called her a week after the disaster in her front door and suggested a picnic and the beach and she thanked Enma she hadn't fucked that one up.

--

Their dinners became private affairs, never in public, and she couldn't help but be glad of it because she was starting to think that people were staring at her whenever she went to the grocery store or to work or anywhere that humans could see her. Kurama was understanding when it slipped out in a park late one evening in February and he became strangely serious and told her that, "nothing is going to happen to you while I'm around." She wondered where this was going again, but this time she was too afraid to move.

For the first time since the kiss he walked her to the front door again and she was blushing the whole time but then he turned to her and stood so close she could count his long lashes and whispered, "I stayed here for you, Shizuru."

And then he left and she was sinking, down, down, and when she looked in the mirror later she could finally admit it in the barest of whispers.

--

The CEO of a powerful company was branded psychic and killed in March and Shizuru knew a collapse was the only thing that would save them now. Europe was at war with itself, the psychics there evidently decided one day not to take any crap and stories of mass murder, of rampage, violence, and continuous fear were pouring out of the continent faster than the news stations in Japan could pick them up. The army had been deployed in America with orders to "kill on identification" and the death toll there was well into the hundreds of thousands and humans were getting scared and asking the question, "how could there be so many?" And she laughed because they were so ignorant to their own world it was pathetic.

She quit smoking, it was becoming a nuisance, really, and Kurama, though he never said it, disliked the habit. She drank less too, because she knew it bothered him as well and only when he did she allowed herself to indulge. They spent more and more time together, though less and less time actually speaking, there was a silent understanding between them and the other's presence was enough at this point. They spoke when they had to, when things became too much, and the conversations were mutual purges and when they were over they were never mentioned again.

It struck Shizuru that if she left he would too and she wondered if that would be a good idea or not. The thought festered and lurked, but she shoved it away because she was happy in her secret life with her friend who was more than a friend and she wasn't sure what would happen if people who knew them saw it, if it would break whatever had formed the closeness and intimacy between them.

She reasoned she shouldn't have to leave because it was her home, but really it was fear of her own family and friends that kept her in the Ningenkai.

--

"I'm going to teach you to defend yourself psychically," Kurama said one day, looking at her with a wary expression, as though this was the last thing he wanted despite how necessary it was. She blinked at him once, slowly, before nodding.

"Alright."

"The mountains would be best. We could go on a camping trip," the implications hung heavy in the air and the coward in her nearly won the second long internal battle that was waged at these words.

Then, "I'll take work off," and it was over and suddenly things between them were frightening again and she just didn't know how to deal with it.

--

A week later in mid April they left their respective cities and traveled north, going to the very tip of the country and as deep into the wilderness as they could, avoiding human contact and barely speaking to each other and really, how the fuck were they back to this awkward teenage crap? Shizuru leaned her head on the headrest and tried to sleep as the car-a rental, Kurama's car was too recognizable for this trip-picked its way up the side roads and less populated main routes to their solitude. The man beside her drove and drove and drove and seemed at just as much of a loss as she was.

--

They arrived on the seventeenth of April and parked the car in the designated camp lot before finding the most obscure place they could find to pitch their tent, away from bathrooms despite Kurama's protests that she may want them because she wasn't fragile, damn it. And they cooked a meal over a fire in the evening and sat staring at stars free from Tokyo's light pollution and for one second they were back in the good times, the safe times, where they didn't have to worry every second that they would be revealed for what they really were.

They shared the tent.


	4. Part IV

I know this chapter's sort of really short, but the next one is going to be pretty long, so hopefully it'll make up for it. I got my timeline a little messed up and this is my remedy of sorts. Read and review! Thank you!

"J'oublie mon chagrin." (I lose my regrets)-Rufus Wainwright

**Part IV **

Morning came and Shizuru was starting to get upset again and Kurama was cooking breakfast over a fire.

"Did you sleep well?" the redhead asked and she thought it was a stupid question but she answered anyways.

"As well as I'm ever able," she sat down across from him and his eyes fixed on a spot over her left shoulder and why the fuck did he never meet her gaze anymore? So what if he knew how she felt, he was Kurama and surely he had enough respect for her not to patronize her with his pity and his guilt and his knuckles were unnaturally white for someone who played the part of calm so well.

"We should start the training soon," he replied flatly and she wanted so badly to hate him it hurt.

--

Kurama was a patient teacher and he guided her gently and she appreciated it because for all her badass behavior and all her brash attacks on demons, Shizuru was not adept for this sort of thing. That was Kazuma's field, actually using their heightened senses for fighting, and even with him it had been an accident. Kazuma was a natural fighter, Shizuru just happened to know just where to hit a male, human or demon, to make him fall.

She almost drowned in green multiple times during the first day because when he held her hands apart and asked her softly to try to channel her energy between them, his gaze became so enveloping she couldn't bear to look away. He seemed to realize this and he stopped looking at her all together, he distanced himself, and she cursed her disturbing lack of self control.

--

On the fourth day she did succeeded in creating a tiny ball of energy between her palms, a proper representation of the courage she had left and he whispered his soft approval. Shizuru brought out the wine she had brought and drank half a bottle and stumbled into his arms and begged him not to leave her. He shook his head as he rested his chin on her shoulder and breathed gentle reassurances in her ear.

He wouldn't leave, it wasn't an obligation, she was all he really had left.

Did she believe it? Ask her another time, she's too busy absorbing his scent and loving his warmth to want to talk right now.

--

She was able to channel fully by the seventh day and he decided that it was time to return to the real world and she sobbed again, this time in private after excusing herself to use the bathroom. The leaves were rough and her stomach rebelled violently and she wished that she could stay in this stupid fantasy forever and that he would need her as much as she needed him, damn it.

Kurama met her eyes for the first time in days when he smiled gently and told her that they couldn't hide forever because that would mean that those insolent humans had won.

"I know," she whispered and he brushed her cheek with his hand and it burned her, it burned her and she was surprised that there wasn't an ugly mark on her skin when she caught her reflection in the car door.

--

The first night back in her apartment brought an ugly nightmare and a drinking binge.

Kurama arrived the next morning and broke in when she couldn't lift herself to answer the door. He didn't have to say it for her to know that he was angry, the cold fury in his eyes when he took in her prone form trailing off the edge of the sofa and surrounded by empty whiskey bottles was more than words could ever convey and she vomited all over the floor in response to it. But he was gentle when he lifted her and he was understanding when she pissed and moaned about being alone and being afraid.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he swore and it was all she could do not to snap again.

--

Three days later she was developing a life sapping case of insomnia and Kurama decided it was time for her to move in with him. She was quite sure she gawked stupidly, but it was such a strange, out-of-body experience that she really couldn't be sure and he helped her pack up her meager belongings into three boxes and she was out of that apartment so fast it gave her whip lash. Or something like that, she was too high on a feeling to really tell.


	5. Part V

"And every breath we drew was hallelujah." –Hallelujah

**Part V**

Shizuru woke up in an unfamiliar bed and nearly flew out of her own skin in a forgetful sort of panic, until she remembered that no, it hadn't been a dream and yes, she had indeed moved in with Kurama.

She then did fly from the bed and into the connected bathroom that all of the bedrooms in Kurama's penthouse seemed to offer, her eyes fastening on the mirror and her expression turning from dazed to a cringe. She was a mess, her hair sticking out in all directions, red blotches coloring her cheeks along with the cheap mascara she had forgotten to wash off the night before and had somehow smeared its way down her face to her chin. She grimaced at her reflection before sighing and picking up her comb from the counter. This, she decided, could not turn into a morning routine and she made a mental note to clean herself up _before_ she went to bed rather than leave the task for afterwards, when she didn't have the time to do it. At home she could wander around looking like she hadn't washed herself for weeks, but not in Kurama's house. Never in Kurama's house.

She wandered out in a somewhat presentable state a half hour later to find a note on the counter saying that he had been called in early for work-whatever it was, she still hadn't found out-and she could take whatever she wanted from the fridge. She got cereal and didn't miss the fact that there was not a drop of alcohol to be found in the kitchen, or anywhere for that matter. She wondered vaguely if he had removed it to punish her for her behavior, but then decided she didn't care because at least this proved that he did think about her, even if it was in anger.

--

He returned at seven that evening and swept her up into an unexpected embrace, but not before she caught a glimpse of the mixture of guilt and rage on his face. It frightened her, she hadn't seen that look at that magnitude in years and it took all of her courage to ask him, "What's wrong?" He pushed his face into her hair and breathed in and out and she could feel it in her bones, something had changed and it was not for the better.

"I made a mistake," he confessed softly, sounding just as tormented as his expression had claimed and Shizuru drew away from him to cup his cheeks in her hands.

"How?"

"I wasn't thinking."

He then excused himself, seemingly unable to deal with what had happened at that moment, and he swept into his bedroom with the explanation of changing out of his work clothes.

Shizuru stood there for a moment, confused and afraid, before deciding that the news might offer her an answer and diving for the television. It flickered to life and that same, clean cut zombie woman who had told her about the psychic invasion to begin with was now telling her about a raid on a suspicious apartment that had been vacated quickly and with no explanation and a picture appeared beside her lifeless face that made the blood freeze in Shizuru's veins.

Her apartment. That was her apartment those cops were swarming with their little detective bags and they knew it was her, they knew who she was, they knew what she was. Bile rose rapidly in the back of her throat and she sank onto Kurama's big, puffy couch and stared numbly at the screen, wanting to reject the image as false.

Kurama entered the room a few minutes later wearing a white t shirt and black sweats and she flew to her feet, tears already beginning to fill her eyes and he stared first at her, then at the television, and then at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Shizuru," he breathed and she wanted to throw herself at him _again_. "You can't leave, not anymore. I'm sorry. I was only concerned with keeping you stable; I didn't think it'd draw suspicion."

"No, Kurama," it took everything she had to speak and still her voice shook with that stupid, irrational fear, despite the presence of the man who had made it clear he would kill for her, would do anything to protect her, "No, what if they trace me to you? What if they come for me and find you?" Her voice was turning slightly hysterical. She didn't care anymore.

Startled green eyes flew up to hers and she was paralyzed under the force of that look and he was starting to look angry again only this time there was no guilt mixed in and suddenly, the fear didn't seem so irrational.

"Worry about yourself more, Shizuru," he hissed before sweeping passed her and into the kitchen.

--

It occurred to her two days later while she sat huddled in his apartment, staring with unseeing eyes at the news-they had turned her home inside out and had found nothing but she had the lingering paranoia that someone would go back and find something she had idiotically forgotten and would somehow connect it to Kurama-that his anger (he hadn't spoken more than two words to her since that night) meant that he cared. She herself hadn't given a rat's ass about what happened to her since the night in Tokyo, she'd been too obsessed with the danger her presence in Kurama's life meant for _his_ well being to worry about her own, since after all she had been living in a sort of twisted, miserable, monotone right up until said night that hadn't left her in the best state of minds when it came to her own existence. To say she was no longer fond of it wasn't exactly accurate, but saying she loved the fact that she was alive wasn't the truth either.

But Kurama cared, that much he had made clear when he had beheaded the human on the Tokyo side street all those months ago and he obviously loathed the fact that she didn't seem to think that the steps he had taken to ensure her safety were worthwhile. He cared and she had effectively dismissed his efforts by ignoring her own safety in favor of once again agonizing over the risks she posed to his own. She owed him more than that, after all that he had done for her.

So when Kurama came home that evening, she got up, threw down the remote, stalked over to him, grabbed the front of his shirt and apologized with more sincerity than she had ever put into words in her life.

And he had smiled, leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, and accepted it.

--

So she started worrying about her own safety as well as Kurama's because she owed him that. It wasn't exactly easy for her; she had lived so long not giving a damn about herself it was difficult to get back into the swing of making sure she didn't accidentally do something suicidal. But, with Kurama's removal of all alcohol (he hadn't told her he'd done it, but she was sure he had) and her lack of ability to actually leave the penthouse, there were literally no dangerous things she could do and so she reasoned that neither of them had to worry. Most of the time she just sat around staring and wondering when the world was finally going to end.

After a week she discovered his lofty book collection and decided to see how long it would take to read her way through them, though based on the huge number it would take well over a decade. Still, she curled up in his favorite arm chair and buried herself in English classics such as _Pride and Prejudice _and _Wuthering Heights_ and wished he would love her as much as Heathcliff and Darcy loved Katherine and Elizabeth. She wanted a love story. She needed a love story.

Kurama entered the penthouse and offered her a small smile as he shrugged off his long over coat.

Or something like that.

--

She forgot it was her birthday on June seventh right up until Kurama brought her a beautiful tray of breakfast in bed and sat with her, talking of meaningless things like the fact that Yusuke had called him the previous day to tell him that Akio had learned the word "bastard", something they both got a good, healthy laugh out of, and that Yukina was barely a month away from giving birth. Shizuru almost wished she could see her niece or nephew come into, but at the same time knew that if they went to the Reikai it would be nearly impossible for them to come back so she held her tongue and if Kurama noticed he didn't let on. It wasn't like this was a good world for a child to be born into anyways, and she wasn't sure she wanted to even see the baby until the conflict was resolved.

If it was ever resolved.

Just before he left for work, he kissed her cheek and told her that it was her day and he'd make whatever she wanted for dinner and all she had to do was ask. She simply smiled and said she was sure he would choose the perfect meal, because anything and everything he made was perfect anyways. In response to this his face turned intense, he leaned closer, and whispered, "Anything."

Then he brushed her lips with his and left her, stunned, amongst her rumpled sheets.

--

At around noon the phone rang.

She ignored it; she never picked it up for fear of alerting the authorities to the fact that there were two people living in Kurama Minamino's penthouse and she was too busy living in a fantasy of light kisses and red hair to really want to talk to anybody anyways. And so the shrill tone rang itself out and living room became silent once more.

A half hour later it rang again, which was unusual because people outside of Shiori never called Kurama at home and Shiori always left messages, which hadn't happened the first time and didn't seem to be coming now. Besides, his mother knew when he worked, so she would call him there. So who was calling the house and why did they seem to think he would be home in the middle of the day and why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing up?

When the noise vanished, she briefly considered being overly cautious and calling Kurama, though she knew the kitsune would take it all too seriously and return at once. She didn't want him to worry, however, so she sat tight and stared at the offending object, daring it with fearfully angry eyes to ring again.

It did, around two, and she suddenly wished that she had called Kurama and that he was here, because something was definitely not right and she knew, instinctively, she couldn't deal with it alone. And when, ten minutes later, it exploded into life again, she flew into high panic mode.

She scrambled into her bedroom for the cell phone Kurama had purchased her when she had first moved in and she had never used and assaulted her number one speed dial with her finger, her breath beginning to speed up as the sound of the house phone grated on her ears. Within two seconds the kitsune picked up, sounding politely impatient and somewhat annoyed by the intrusion on his work, "Minamino Shuichi."

"Kurama," she was struggling here, making herself sound too upset would only make him freak out, which would not help the situation she just _knew_ she was in. She pressed the phone to her ear and tried to calm herself down enough to explain what was happening in a somewhat understandable way, though her breathing was well out of her control at this point, "Kurama, the phone keeps ringing."

No sooner had she said it than it began again, unrelenting in its pleas for her attention and even shorter in its pause time, giving her only two minutes of silence before attacking her ears again. He inhaled sharply at the sound as it traveled over the wires to him and said, "How often?"

"It started at noon…it's been speeding up between calls…I don't know what to-!"

"Don't answer it," she could hear and see him getting to his feet, pushing his work aside, preparing to come to her rescue and suddenly, her entire world seemed colder and she knew that something was coming and _now_, "Don't move."

"Kurama…I think someone's here…what do I do?" she sounded remarkably calm for someone facing certain death or capture and suddenly he was the frantic one, she could hear it in the way the air was leaving his lungs.

"Don't engage them," he hissed and she heard a rather distinct thud and wondered what poor object had had the misfortune of getting in his way and suddenly, the phone, which had begun to ring again, went completely silent. He must have heard the change too, because he demanded, "What's happening?"

She didn't know and she spun around, looking for some sort of sign of what was to come but her room was empty and she couldn't see into the rest of the penthouse. She swallowed hard, the only indication that something was off being her own intuition, "I don't know."

"Shizuru…"

He stopped, his demon hearing picking it up even over the phone. To her own ears it was faint but obvious and her stomach turned over as what was really happening hit her square in the gut and she fell back onto her bed, the absent fear finally making itself known in the form of paralysis.

"Shizuru, don't go near the door," Kurama ordered and there was murder in his voice and she knew it wasn't any use. The knocking grew louder, more insistent, and Kurama was breathing heavily in her ear as he ran, "Shizuru, swear to me you won't engage them."

"I won't," she managed to whisper, the shaking fingers of her free hand moving upwards to tangle in her hair and how had this happened? They had been so careful, no one had known, no one! This was impossible! "But if they get in-!"

"They won't."

She could hear it in his voice and she knew he would kill every single one of them if he made it there in time.

She knew it in her heart that he wouldn't.

The sound of male voices drifted towards her then and she froze and Kurama literally snarled in his fury. They were still outside, but she knew she only had seconds and she knew it was now or never and every ounce of absent courage, every bit of self she had lost over the last seven years came flooding back to her. She rose, quickly and swiftly, ready for a fight, but not ready to let go of the man on the other side of the phone quite yet.

"Kurama, I have to tell you something."

"Shut up, Shizuru," he spat, knowing she was giving up hope on his rescue and hating it even as he realized she was right. She couldn't help but smile, because she finally knew how much he cared and it gave her something to live for.

"No, Kurama, you need to know."

Something hit the door, hard, but it didn't give and Kurama was panting in his futile effort.

"I think I've known it since the Dark Tournament, I just didn't want to accept it. You were you and I was me and in my mind, it wasn't possible."

"Shizuru!"

"Listen to me."

There was a silence that lasted for two seconds, until whatever it was they were trying to use to break down the door came in contact with the wood again. The door held, but she could feel it in her bones that this would be the last time.

"Shizuru, it's not going to end like this."

"I don't care, I've been out of time for months, Kurama," she let out her breath slowly and turned away from her bedroom door to look at the tray she had left sitting on her bedside table and she smiled at the rose that was sitting, beautiful and harmless, on the plate, "I'm in love with you."

"Don't hang up the phone," was his panicked response because he knew her and he knew what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I wish I had been brave enough to tell you sooner, but like I said, you're you and I'm me and it still doesn't make sense."

"Don't _say _THAT!" he actually roared and she heard him hit something, hard, and wished that for one second, she could see him again.

If only for a second.

"Good bye, Kurama."

Then, before he could respond, she closed the phone, threw it on the bed, steeled herself, and turned.

A half a minute later the door broke down and Shizuru smirked.

This was her last stand.

She was going to give these humans hell for it.

--

_This chapter took forever for me to write, but when I finally really sat down and did it, it just wrote itself. I hope you like it, Kurama might be a teeny, tiny bit OOC, but it was necessary for obvious reasons. I hope you all like it! Read and review!_


	6. Section I

_Welcome, my dear readers, to the second part of this story._

_Now, since this may get a little confusing, I have decided, because I lacked the foresight to label the part I just finished as book one, to call these parts by a different name. Therefore, for the next few chapters, the titles will be Section I and so on. This is an entirely different story, taking place in a slightly overlapped timeframe from the one that just closed, that centers around Shiori. It begins around the time that Kurama and Shizuru go into the woods to train. I know this will probably drive you all nuts, as I just dumped Shizuru in the worst possible position ever, but never fear! This chapter covers all the distance between the forest and Shizuru's fight, so don't worry, I won't leave you hanging for too long. But keep in mind I thrive on making things super dramatic. It's a thing. I like to pretend it adds to my writing, but I'm sure it drives people nuts. Sorry about that. _

_I hope you like this, I know it's a very big three sixty from where you probably thought this was going, but there are two women in Kurama's life and I wanted them both to have a say in this. So. Yes. But if you really hate it, keep in mind that Shizuru is nowhere near finished and in a few chapters she'll be back with a vengeance._

_On one final note, please, please, please review! I am in need of a feedback fix._

"Men are what their mothers made them." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Section I

The first time her husband decided killing was better than compromise, she forgot for ten seconds why she had married him and it scared her to death to think it.

--

Shuuichi visited often, but he rarely spoke, especially when it came to Hakatana's obsession with the psychic eradication movement. He simply stared at the older man with darkness in his green eyes and Shiori knew that he was with her on this, that he knew that killing wasn't the answer, and she loved her son more than ever when she realized just how morally pure he was.

Hakatana did put him on the spot about his failure to join the movement officially, but only once because Shuuichi fixed him in one of the coldest looks she had ever seen from him and told the man that he had no interest in genocide. Her husband hadn't even complained to her about her child rearing skills, something he had commented on often when Shuuichi was still a teenager and he had believed the long hair and lashes far too feminine for a proper man and Shuuichi was too open minded for his own good and his innocence would get him killed or something like that, as the tone in her son's voice had been so final and so dangerous that he knew there was no arguing the point.

She wondered, and feared, that Shuuichi had taken the opposite side of her husband and grew to dread the phone ringing, as psychic supporters were being labeled psychics just because they thought such abnormality was natural and really, that was the only way to deal with them because the idea of them teaming up with the monsters was just too frightening to bear.

For the so called world leaders, that is. Shiori wasn't sure if such a thing would lead to something good or not. In fact, she was beginning to question the existence of good all together at this point.

--

She stood up when her son entered her home two months after condemning her spouse's views, looking slightly guilty and casting a wary eye around her sitting room and asking about the whereabouts of Hakatana. Shuuichi had been avoiding her husband, she wasn't blind, and she knew it had everything to do with his support of the psychic eradication movement, because she could see the strain it put on him when Hakatana did have the brass to mention it in his presence and how hard he struggled not to attack, physically or verbally. It was the first time she had ever seen lack of control in him and it frightened her, but sometimes she found herself wishing that he didn't love her to the point of protecting her marriage from himself. When she confirmed that the man wasn't there, Shuuichi knelt before her, took her hands in his, and told her he needed to go out of town for a few days and he would be back as soon as he could.

She didn't ask him why and he didn't tell her because she knew he was doing something illegal, something psychic related, and he knew she would never betray him because he knew that she hated what her husband had become.

--

He returned the next week and she knew there was a woman in his life because there was light in his eyes for the first time since the eradication had begun.

She gazed at him as they ate dinner in one of the vague, beautiful, highly expensive restaurants he often treated her to. They were alone, something they both relished but didn't speak about because the thought of just what Hakatana was doing that evening was weighing on their minds. He was with his fellows, arguing about what to do about the prison issues as overcrowding wasn't killing psychics fast enough and they had no place to put the overflow. Shiori had nearly vomited, or screamed, or thrown the frying pan she was washing at her husband's head when he mentioned the predicament to her and she was coming very, very close to hating him, not just his ideas, now that it scared her.

So she clung to her son's strange happiness with all she had because it proved that there was still good in this world and that she had forgotten it for just a moment.

He kissed her cheek when he returned her to her house, because it's no longer a home, not with _him_ there, later that evening. His eyes shown in the darkness as they stood beside his car on the driveway and out of sight of the front windows that were lit up so brightly but somehow so cold and she couldn't help but ask him, "Do you love her?" And he smiled and wrapped his strong arms around her in what could be called a loving embrace, but they both knew it was meant for comfort and not for what they were talking about.

"I do, Mother."

"Can I meet her?" she saw, for a split second, fear in his gaze and she knew, without being told, just what this woman was.

"Maybe someday."

--

Five days later Shuuichi took her out to lunch and seemed almost distracted and motherly instincts told her something terrible had happened.

"Is she alright?"

He didn't look shocked, or horrified, or angered by her assumption, in fact, he surprised her by chuckling softly and meeting her gaze steadily and the trust she saw there was like a punch in the gut and she had never known him like this before, "A mother always knows," he commented softly, "Yes, she is."

"Will she be safe?"

"I'm with her."

Shiori knew that her son would do anything to keep her safe, but still she was afraid as even then there were Trackers moving by the window they sat beside, Detectors in hand and eyes on a sharp look out for the psychic menace. She took a deep breath and looked sadly at Shuuichi and he must have seen it in her eyes because his expression grew just as miserable as her own as she said, "I'm not sure if that's enough anymore."

He sighed and for a moment he looked just as old as she felt, but still beautiful and she almost started sobbing.

"I know."

--

It didn't bother her as much as she thought it would, keeping it a secret from Hakatana that her son was not only harboring one of the freaks he so abhorred, but was in love with her as well. Maybe it was because he hadn't been paying much attention to her since he began his affair with the movement, or maybe it was because even his own son, Suuichi, couldn't meet his eyes anymore, even when he wasn't lecturing on the psychic invasion.

Maybe it was because she had grown to loathe him, but she didn't really like the idea of admitting that so she shoved the thought to the back of her mind whenever she saw him.

But as the days passed and she continued to honor Shuuichi's mysterious woman and continued to turn her back on her husband, it turned into a life line because she felt like she was in directly standing against him and, even though she would never do it openly, this was at least something. She clung to her own silence because it made her feel like less of a monster when she stood by and watched an innocent man dragged away from his home to be thrown in prison and left to die alone. She was saving a life, it was made all the better by the fact that it was one her Shuuichi cherished, and it made her more human than Hakatana could ever be in her eyes ever again.

--

Hakatana mentioned Shuuichi once, for the first time in months, asking about her son's plans in regards to the movement and whether or not he had any intentions of joining up about a week after their last lunch together. She lied, saying he was beginning to show minor interest, not because she was ashamed of Shuuichi but because she feared her husband and his loyalty to the cause. He stared at her, his once warm brown eyes calculating and filled with absolutely no love and her stomach wrenched but she held eye contact if only to protect Shuuichi.

--

It happened two days after that conversation.

She sat, alone in the large house Hakatana had purchased when they married, and stared at nothing, trying to pretend she hadn't gone numb in her misery. He came home and she didn't understand why, he was usually busy in the mid afternoon talking with his fellow anti psychic nuts and planning the end of a race of people who were just as human as she was. But there he was, looking almost guilty and meeting her gaze with at least some love, certainly more than he had since his profound change of character. Her heart started racing and she half rose, her eyes locked on his and he rung his hands and she knew nothing would ever be the same.

"I had to do it, Shiori," he whispered and her stomach clenched but she tried to stay calm, she had to be brave.

"Do what?" she managed to choke out and he flinched at the terror they both could hear in her voice and she knew, she just knew, that her life was over.

"He was too sympathetic. I have obligations."

"Obligations," and she got angry, furious, and she was suddenly on her feet and shaking, "He was my son!"

Not his, hers. He had never been his. He would never be his. She wouldn't be his anymore either, for the love of God, she loathed him.

"He was with the psychics!" Hakatana was shouting now, just as angry as she was and her marriage was over and she didn't care anymore, "I was waiting for you to do it, Shiori, you should have done it!"

"Going to turn me in too, then?" she shrieked, picking up the nearest object, to do what with she wasn't really sure. It was one of Hakatana's anti psychic books, he had been reading up on the best way to pick them out of a crowd the night before even though she knew he knew the pages by heart and she wanted to throw it at him, but her hands were shaking too hard to really do much of anything with them. "Going to punish me for loving my Shuuichi?"

"No…"

"I'm leaving," she dropped the book and kicked it away from herself, vomit rising rapidly in her throat and she was moving towards the door, towards freedom. He grabbed her arm, his eyes wide.

"You can't!"

She wrenched herself out of his grip and her vision was blurry, from tears, or from rage, or maybe from both, she wasn't really sure. She spun and her palm connected with his cheek and his head jerked to the side and the shock was wiped from his face, replaced by a vacant expression.

"I can," she whispered as he stared at the wall, empty.

And then she ran, because they had her son and he was doomed and they would probably come for her now and she really didn't have anything left to live for so fighting it was pointless.


	7. Section II

"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix." Christina Baldwin

_The mentioned village, Toride, is entirely fictional. Toride is the Japanese word for Fortress. I also own Hinshu Hanransha, whose name means Kind Rebel in English. He is…necessary. You can probably guess why._

_There is a slightly clichéd aftertaste in parts of this chapter, but it was a conscious decision. I wanted to save up my drama production for later chapters…namely, the next one. A teaser, of sorts._

_I didn't really proof read this all that well, so there may be more mistakes than usual. Sorry about that, I knew I'd forget tomorrow if I didn't post it right now._

_Please review. Like I said, I need a fix. Like, now and stuff._

**Section II**

She didn't know how to stop so she kept running for what felt like days, or maybe hours, her mind was too internal to tell at the moment. Shiori had never been a compulsive woman, she had always followed the rules and, right up until this exact second, after she had actually done it, the thought of leaving Hakatana hadn't so much as crossed her normally pure mind. She was well out of her own control at this point and she didn't know how to get herself back from the darkness in the back of her brain where her awareness had retreated too.

So she kept running and not once did it occur to her to look back.

She found her way into the forests that surrounded her little suburb of Tokyo and entered them without so much as a thought about what she was doing. She was operating on a primal instinct now, the same one that had screamed at her to get away from her husband, and she figured it hadn't let her astray so far, so she may as well follow it to where ever it wanted her to go. So she kept pounding the pavement, which morphed into a hard packed dirt trail covered by multiple stray leaves as she entered the trees, and fled from the civilization she so abhorred into the unknown wilderness.

It was only the violent stitch in her side that stopped her, and even that took fifteen minutes to take its toll and she collapsed against a tree beside the old path and finally, reluctantly, began to let the tears flow. Her knees gave out soon after and she curled against the rough bark and she prayed for something, anything to give her the strength to carry on.

It took a long time and Shiori sat and stared and cried and let numbness take her for the first time since the cancer was miraculously cured. She was so wrapped up in herself that it didn't register at first and, when it did, it confused her all the more because, as she sat there on that soft forest floor staring at nothing and half mourning, half celebrating the end of her marriage, there was undeniably muffled music playing somewhere very close by.

It took seeing the light through the pocket of her jeans and she almost decided to ignore it but then took it out of her pocket anyway just to see who was calling her. The phone flashed her husband's name and she grimaced and, without hesitation, threw the phone across the path, watching as it slammed fatally into the large tree growing opposite her. She then smiled grimly, stood up, dusted off the back of her pants and turned resolutely to face the direction that lead deeper into the darkening shadows of the tress.

She would keep walking because, really, what else was there to do?

--

It took a day and a half for the adrenaline of what she had done to wear off and it was replaced so quickly by hysteria she hadn't even had a descent into it. It was more like one second she was completely calm and the next second she was sitting on a park bench (she wasn't sure exactly _when_ she left the forest, she only knew that she had felt it necessary and had blown out of the trees and back into civilization because she felt that if she hadn't, she would only prove herself to be a coward) sobbing into her clenched fingers and trying not to look too conspicuous in the broad and brilliant daylight. Although, maybe she didn't really care one way or the other about whether or not she was caught. It was just her freedom, after all, and while her son didn't have the blessing she wasn't sure she wanted it either. So she perched on the lonely seat beneath a tall and powerful oak tree's shadow, half wanting to be picked up by Trackers and half wishing she had had the gall to stand up to Hakatana before it had become too late.

She decided after an hour that sitting was doing no good, so she began to walk again. She entered the main street of a town she didn't know, found an ATM and withdrew money from an account she technically could no longer call hers, and stumbled to the nearest inn to check in with a name that wasn't hers.

Then she slept, because her consciousness was taking her to places she just didn't want to go; namely to what had happened to Shuuichi and how her husband had turned into such a monster.

--

Shiori stayed there for a week, dodging glances, eating in different restaurants every night, and purchasing clothes with what was left of the four hundred dollars she had taken so brashly from her husband's (ex, she really needed to get used to that idea) account. She had closed her own when they had married and fiercely regretted it now and wondered just where the feminist in her had gone when she had met Hakatana.

Since nobody came looking for her, she figured he must not have discovered her transaction yet and she hadn't been tracked to the tiny town just north of Osaka and she let herself, for a moment, relax. Then, she couldn't help it, she wondered if he had seen it, had decided not to call the authorities on her, was protecting her and maybe, just maybe, still loved her.

Then she laughed and threw her foot rather aggressively at a nearby stone, watching it fly off the pavement, bounce off the post of a street lamp, and land a few feet away from where it had begun with malice.

The idea of him still loving her was ludicrous; he had proved that when he condemned her son, the one he knew she loved more than anything in the world, to most certain death.

--

She left on a Sunday, taking a bus north, determined to get as far away from urban settings as she could and she didn't get out of her seat for hours and when she did, it was only because the quaint little classic Japanese village was as close as she was going to get to ignorance. She left the bus, took a chance and found another ATM, stole seven hundred dollars of her ex's money, and found a tiny inn overlooking a charming pond and meadow and offering a beautiful view of the surrounding country side.

She slept for two days this time, before deciding she really needed to get something done.

--

There wasn't anything really distinct about Shiori, something she had abhorred as she child but now adored as a possible fugitive, and it offered an advantage when she decided that Toride would be a suitable place to hide and mourn and disintegrate in peace. She traversed the village in search of possible job offerings, giving her maiden name and praying that no warrant had been issued for her immediate arrest. Nothing happened, to her relief and suspicion, and she found herself with a job in a small coffee shop, making lattés and listening to the teenagers of the tiny community as they ranted about psychics and becoming disgusted with the brainwashing she had so steadfastly ignored when she was still with Hakatana and wishing she could see her son again. Once or twice she may have cried, but she turned away quickly when she felt the offending moisture, hiding it from the oblivious patrons for all she was worth and wiping it away with vicious palms.

She could be strong. She knew that Shuuichi wouldn't want her to shrivel up and die. And so she would endure, if only for him.

If only for him.

--

She fell into an easy routine. Wake up, shower, put on uniform, brush hair, apply minimal make up, have breakfast in inn, wander until shift, work for seven hours from two in the afternoon to closing at nine, wander to bar, maybe drink one or five, and go to bed.

It was numbing and soul sapping and she loved it and clung to it for all she was worth.

It kept her ticking and she needed to keep ticking because she did it for Shuuichi and, if she stayed alive it gave her some hope that maybe he could too. He was strong.

She had to believe that.

--

A man entered the coffee shop about three weeks, give or take five days, after she had started working there that she had never seen before and it threw her, because all of the customers she had served thus far had turned out to be regulars.

He smiled at her, approached the counter, ordered a French roast, and asked her for her name, all in such relaxed, gentle, calming tones that she was caught off guard entirely and it never occurred to her not to say, "Shiori Minamino," as she stupidly held the button down on the roast machine for two long and got a scalding handful of black, almost boiling coffee.

She shrieked, he jerked, and she swore that the coffee that lingered between her fingers slid away from her skin and landed on the counter where it couldn't continue to brutally burn her frail skin in a way that never would have happened naturally and she looked up at him, stupefied for an entirely different reason, her whole body shaking and her mouth stuttering, "I'm sorry, so sorry, let me clean this up and-!"

Her manager appeared then, a scowling man of his mid thirties who was obviously slightly bitter with his career and he glowered first at her mess, then at her obviously injured hand, and then into her eyes, "Minamino, you cannot work in this condition," he snarled and she flinched backwards into the counter, all the while very aware of the man behind her, the back of her mind screaming at her that he was _a PSYCHIC! _"Get yourself to the clinic," she knew of the place and nodded dumbly as he advanced on her, pushed her aside and began to soak up the coffee with a torn dish towel from the back room, "If you cannot work tomorrow, make sure you call tonight," he added nastily, "I need to get a replacement."

"Yes sir," she mumbled, the pain finally settling in and nearly drawing tears and she cradled her hand and stumbled around the counter and passed the man-the psychic-without looking at him. Fear had accompanied the pain, it was the first time she had felt it since she had begun her numbing journey from her old life as Shiori Hakatana a month ago and she didn't like it, so she determined that she needed to get as far away from the psychic as she could to rid herself of it.

She managed to make it out the door and two feet down the sidewalk before he evidently decided to follow her.

"Shiori," he murmured, so close behind her she actually shrieked again, softer this time, and spun to stare at him and shake some more. He looked down at her through gentle lavender eyes and he smiled and she was suddenly less afraid and more at ease and she wondered, a second before he began to speak again, if that was a psychic trick or if he just gave off a reassuring air. She decided she didn't care when he said, "Let me see it," and took her hand and lifted it to properly throw the burns into sharp relief, making her flinch with their raw, pink and red severity. The man furrowed his eyebrows and reached up absently with his left hand, the hand that wasn't clutching hers so tightly, to brush his messy brown hair out of his face and she noticed how open his face was, how handsome, how kind, and felt herself relax even more, despite herself. He was young, she realized abruptly as she watched him, and she had at least a decade on him, if not more.

Then he replaced his left hand on hers, his ring and middle fingers brushing over the burn and inspiring more than a little stinging with the touch and she couldn't help but squeak, "What are you doing?" in a rather pathetic tone.

He smiled at her again and this time she felt herself hardening because it was sort of obvious that he was pouring on the charm. For all his good looks and obvious confidence, she was slightly put off suddenly and she couldn't put her finger on why, though when he spoke, she was sure it had something to do with how he seemed almost arrogant, "Healing you, of course. I know that you know I'm a psychic and I'm assuming, since you didn't start screaming and pointing and throwing me under the bus, that you have no intention of doing so."

She let herself glare, because she felt he deserved it after that assumption, "No, I'm not going to turn you in," she tried to wrench her hand free and scowled even more when he only tightened his grip and grinned, "I don't need your help."

"This is a second degree burn," he shrugged nonchalantly like it was nothing to him, but it certainly was hurting her so she tried once more to tear herself away, only to find her efforts futile and she almost hissed in frustration, "Besides, it was my fault."

"Listen, sir," she began in what could only be called a snarl, only to have him place his left palm flat over the burn, shocking her into silence with the pain the small movement caused.

"Hanransha, Hinshu," he said lightly and Shiori felt like there was something moving over her skin, despite its obvious lack of substance, like a wave of air or something more, and suddenly her whole hand was numb and she stopped trying to jerk away and stared at the tops of his knuckles and she felt what was unmistakably his _power_ flowing into her wound, down through her skin, and into her veins. She also felt his gaze on her face and avoided those eyes, those powerful, strange eyes, with every ounce of calm courage she could summon in that moment.

It was strangely intimate and it was all she could do not to flush and make an even bigger fool of herself than she already had.

He removed his fingers so suddenly she almost fell backwards with surprise, but instead managed to stare at her newly repaired, flawless skin with shock. The violent burns that had marred the back of her hand, her knuckles, her fingers, and palm were completely vanished, leaving in their wake no scars, no hint of any nasty wound ever having been there. She blinked as she turned her hand to properly stare at her palm, and then frowned as her eyes slid down to her wrist, to where the scars of almost fifteen years before peaked out from under the shelter of her blouse as her mind left the man before her and fell painfully down to her son and her buried thoughts of him.

It was like a fresh wound and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself and she suddenly was less awkward and more furious.

"Thank you," she said, trying to hide the shaky anger in her voice as she turned away from his smile, which for some reason was still etched firmly in place. She had had every intention of walking away and it struck her that maybe she should have run, because after her second step a hand clamped down ruthlessly on her shoulder.

"I know who you are, Shiori Hakatana," the man, the psychic, _Hinshu_, said softly, flatly and it froze the blood in her veins.


	8. Section III

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." William Congreve

**Section III**

She stood, and stared, and had never been more terrified than she was in that exact moment and it was as if time had stopped, simply to torture her all the more. She stared at this man, this Hinshu, and knew she should probably run, after all it was the surname, Hakatana, that he had put the most emphasis on and every instinct she had was screaming at her to get. The hell. AWAY. But still, she was frozen and he seemed almost amused by her reaction because half his mouth was turned up in what could have been a smile or could have been a sneer and she noticed, again, how attractive he was, how he had been the perfect man to send after her, simply because he was breath taking like that.

But his lavender gaze was hardly cold, it was even what could be called gentle, and her terror was melting, despite herself. She straightened her back unconsciously and looked him right in the eye, trying for confidence because she realized panicking was probably the worst thing she could have done in this situation and she needed to keep her head, because he could turn nasty at any second.

It wasn't that she disliked psychics, you see, and she most definitely wasn't her husband, it was more that she didn't know him and she didn't know someone who did know him and she couldn't get a real gauge on who he was because he was good a faking transparency and she could see right through it to the wall separating who he was from the world.

And so she took a deep breath and spoke in the most level voice she could come up with at the moment, "Have we met, sir?"

He flashed white teeth and buried his hands in the pockets of the long, tan overcoat he wore and an autumn wind picked up the leaves at his feet and sent them spiraling in several different directions, "No, Mrs. Hakatana, we have not."

She wondered why he would call her that, considering anyone with eyes would be able to tell that she had absolutely no intention of returning to her spouse and her nametag, blared for all to see on her chest, read Shiori _Minamino_ and she had disposed of her ring weeks before. She decided it was a play on his part and reacted in kind with a low, "I am no longer with my husband," to make her position clear.

His grin grew wider and she knew she had made the right move and he reached out so suddenly that she nearly flew out of her skin. His fingers grasped her elbow and he turned her, picking up a swift stride down the sidewalk away from the coffee shop and towards the inn she was still living at, for lack of a small, leasable home in the tiny village. She was stiff as he half guided, half dragged her down the country lane and knew exactly where she needed to go and the terror was rising again and she didn't really see how it was unreasonable in this particular setting.

He sensed, or saw, or felt it in her muscles, or whatever, that she was upset and smiled again in what was clearly meant to be a reassuring way and she had to admit that it worked a little.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured as they rounded a sharp corner and the inn came into view and she tried to relax, she did, but there was a sense of impending doom there that she just couldn't shake.

"Really?" she asked weakly and he nodded, still smiling and she was the one to open the wooden front door to the inn, but he was the first over the threshold.

They didn't really mince moments in the lobby, the hotel's owner, a older, blonde woman with whom Shiori had spent a little time, cast her a incredulous look at the sight of her young and beautiful guest, but she pretended not to notice the glance and lead the way to her room on the first floor landing, his hand still firmly on her arm as though e was afraid she would make a break for it if he let go. If she was being honest, his worries weren't entirely unfounded and she unlocked the door with shaking fingers and moved into the room to turn and stare at him nervously and wring her hands.

He was quiet as he moved into the room and his eyes were on the windows behind her rather than on her, something she was almost thankful for because his gaze was almost paralyzing in some ways and knee weakening in others. His hand pushed the door gently shut behind him and seconds later he was in action, crossing the room to the sill, running his hand along the wood and up the sides and then across the night stand, opening the drawer and rummaging into the scattered contents of a book Shiori had attempted to read-and wasn't even sure of its title anymore-and a box of, of all things, Q-tips. She was too stunned to be properly embarrassed by this delving into her privacy at first, but when he swung around and started towards her bureau, his fingers wrapping firmly around the handles of the top drawer, she couldn't help the small protest, "Excuse me," her voice was weak, though, so in her mind, it was less protest and more honest question, "What are you doing?"

He barely spared her a glance, "Searching for bugs," what the hell? "Your ex-husband is hardly the type to let things go," her stomach knotted, "I was nervous about approaching you, but it's gotten to the point where we have no other options," Hinshu straightened, having suitably rifled through her underwear, clothes, and the other deeply personal belongings she had purchased during her one month stay in Toride. His eyes flicked to the solitary painting of a vague, nondescript landscape, he ran his hand around the edge of the frame, removed it from the wall and brushed his palm against papery backing and he tossed it aside and Shiori dove for it, surprising herself by catching it before it hit the floor. She replaced it gently on its nail, straightening it with an amount of care that surprised her, as she had thought that she could care less about this little room because it was a part of the ridiculous façade her life had become, a necessity to appear normal and nothing more.

Then she turned and saw him pushing the mattress off her bed.

"Sir-ah, Hinshu!" she began in shrill protest and he didn't turn, he completely ignored her, actually, as he began ripping the bed dress off with little regard for its well being. Incensed, Shiori scooped that up as well, only to find the comforter and top sheets being thrown in her direction next and really, this was getting out of hand, "My husband hasn't tried to contact me since I left a month ago!" she exploded so suddenly she shocked them both. He turned and looked at her blankly for a long moment before letting his expression soften and he smiled in an understanding way.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't know where you are," apparently satisfied that the bed was clean or whatever he blew passed her and entered the tiny, connected bathroom door that stood a few feet to her left and seconds later she heard the unmistakable sound of a drawer being forcibly removed from its home and upended and its contents clattered on the floor. Shiori didn't bother with protests anymore, however, and she crossed the room, hugging the bed dress to her stomach and fighting back a sudden, yet not entirely unexpected onslaught of tears and she sank onto the bed frame and buried her face in the white fabric she clutched to herself like a lifeline of sorts.

The sobs started and she was too tired to really care and she didn't even notice when, barely three minutes later, the noise in the bathroom stopped and the man reentered the room slowly and stood watching her.

She did, however, notice when he shifted in what could only be called discomfort and she looked up at him, only vaguely concerned that her eyes were probably red and her cheeks were probably blotchy and he looked awkward and this obviously wasn't a situation he was used to.

"Was there a bug?" she asked in a thick voice and his gaze darted away because he was obviously not in his element with her blatant show of emotion.

"No," his voice was calm, yet nervous at the same time and she wondered how he pulled it off. He moved to lean against the bureau and he looked guiltily around the small twelve by ten at the damage his rampage had caused, "I'm sorry I tore up your room, I'll put it back together before I leave."

She nodded, but she found she didn't really care at the moment and later, when she looked back, it occurred to her that she must have been in shock or something similar, because she could no longer feel much of anything, "Do you think my husband's watching me?"

Hinshu looked hesitant but answered quickly, "Not at the moment, but it's very possible he's got his people tailing you."

She blinked, the way he had said it made her feel unbearably uneasy, and she fixed her eyes on him because, despite the fact he was so horribly impossible to read, it gave her comfort to see the kindness that still lurked in his eyes, "His people?"

He folded his arms and looked away, out the window and she wondered where his confidence had gone and had her break down really made him that uncomfortable? "The Trackers," he replied, his voice suddenly stiff, and her stomach was suddenly missing.

"What are you talking about?" she breathed and tried not to scream because this really wasn't the time to throw another fit, not when he was on the verge of explaining and she was on the verge of something that she really didn't want to be; "He doesn't…have control over Trackers…does he?"

Hinshu's eyes flew to hers so suddenly that, had she been on her feet, she would have been knocked clean off of them and as it was, the breath was forced violently from her lungs. They stared at each other for a long moment and the feeling in her body was back in the form of fear and yet again, she couldn't say it was an entirely unfounded reaction, "You don't know?"

"Don't-," her voice stuck and she nearly choked on nothing but managed to control herself just barely and _what __**was**__**HAPPENING**__?_ "Don't know what?" she gasped and he was pushing away from the bureau now, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes wide and powerful and confused.

"What did he tell you about his involvement with the Movement?" he asked almost breathlessly and there was a genuine strain in his voice and his brow was furrowed and his fingers were curling into fists.

"He…just said that he…was involved and a supporter," Shiori shrank back against the mattress behind her and clung to the bed dress and drew her knees up in front of her protectively and he was advancing, towering over her, looking so frighteningly angry she was paralyzed again.

But, despite that rage, or perhaps because of it, his voice was flat and he spoke with no emotion at all and in some ways, most ways, that was worse, "He was not a supporter, Shiori. He was a leader. A prominent leader. Every anti-psychic person in this world knows the Hakatana name and reveres it."

She probably should have felt something in the realm of shock, of horror, of disgust, of hatred, of fury, of anything, but she didn't and she couldn't say that bothered her and the numbness was back and again she clung to it, "I…I didn't…" there was nothing she could say, so she stopped trying.

But Hinshu would not accept that in response and he knelt and his gaze was so intense she felt like he was seeing through her skull and into her soul and really, she was sure her heart was going to give out in seconds, "Do not lie to me," he said softly and while it wasn't in his voice, she could feel the malice thick and dangerous in the air.

"I…I'm not," she cowered like a child and she will never be ashamed to admit it because really, he should have killed her right then and there for her idiocy, if not for her cowardice.

He stared and then he stood and then he turned away, "I will come back soon. We will discuss this further then."

And then he left and she sank into nothingness because, after all, that was how she survived.

--

She was an ignorant fool and now she could do nothing now but wait until she died.

She should have seen it, that Hakatana was a leader and not a follower, because, despite their vast differences in opinion, she did _know_ him after all and he believed so strongly in the Eradication that he wouldn't be satisfied sitting on the sidelines, he would want to be in the thick of it and he had been. He had been and she had either been too stupid, or too frightened, or both, to see it. Had she been brave enough to watch the news, as she had taken to avoiding long before she had left him, she probably would have seen him leading the crusade, bloodlust firing in his eyes and red stains of the lives of thousands on his hands and her stomach revolted at the mere thought of it.

She stayed in her room for days in a state of disconnect, calling out of work and avoiding all human contact and she stopped eating, didn't sleep, didn't shower, she merely existed on that bed frame, slumped against the mattress and wrapped in the bed dress, too tired and too hurt to care about much of anything anymore.

The way he had betrayed her had been worse than she had originally thought, he hadn't handed Shuuichi over to his superiors out of fear, or out of a distorted sense of duty, or anything remotely similar to either, but he had condemned her son himself, he had signed the boy's death warrant, and he may as well have killed her poor, poor child with his bare hands. And the idea that she could have seen it coming, she could have protected him, if only she hadn't chosen the route of weakness and fear was slowly and painfully eating away at her insides.

She couldn't keep ticking for him knowing she didn't deserve him in the first place.

--

It had been a week, give or take a day or two that Hinshu was gone and she had fallen into something resembling a sleep when he broke in at two o'clock in the morning via the window and knelt beside her and touched her shoulder. Any other time she would have screamed, or lashed out, or at least done something constructive, rather than lay there and hope whoever it was had come with the intent of killing her. It was only when she met his powerful, lavender gaze that she even blinked and a sense of alertness, minute in size but still there, returned so suddenly it nearly made her back leave the still up ended mattress. Nearly, but not quite.

"Have you been lying here since I left last week?" he whispered and he sounded concerned but still she didn't really want to move, so she didn't. Nor did she respond to his question, which made his expression harden and the hand that was still on her shoulder slide around to the back of her neck and lift her nearly comatose form away from the mattress, "Don't do this to yourself, Shiori," he continued, his voice slightly louder, but not in danger of carrying to the neighbors she was no longer sure if she had or not as she had taken to flatly ignoring her surroundings in favor of retreating inside herself, "Not over him."

His final words struck a chord and she turned her gaze to meet his and he smiled slightly and rubbed her shoulder blades, "That's better," he was wearing the same long, tan over coat and looked the same, charming man he had started out as during their previous meeting and she stared at him, sensation returning under his touch.

"Did you know," her voice was low, dark, angry and it shocked her with its violence, "that he killed my son?"

Hinshu's lavender eyes softened and he looked away and he nodded and her stomach was churning and that was more feeling than she'd had in days. She pulled away from him, stood up, and moved to the window to gaze out at the dark street she had been hiding from and she gripped the window sill so hard her knuckles were white.

"If you could," he asked softly from behind her and she didn't turn because she could picture him, crouching in the shadow she cast in the faint moonlight, his gaze glinting as it burned into her back, "would you get revenge?"

The question threw her and she couldn't help but look at him and he had such a serious expression on his face it gave her a spark she hadn't felt in months, years even and images of Shuuichi were suddenly dancing in her mind's eye and she loved him, she loved him so much.

"Yes," she said and it was with conviction and no uncertainty and the cold smile the word brought to his face sent a dangerous thrill down her spine and when had she changed like this? This wasn't the woman she had seen in the mirror barely two weeks ago and she'd go as far as saying this new Shiori was completely unrecognizable but not entirely unwelcome.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about your husband's home, everything. No detail is too small."

She nearly unloaded then and there but a nagging in the back of her thoughts stopped her and forced a question she really did not want to ask from her lips and seconds later she regretted it and she knew he could tell but he would answer it anyways because really, she had to know, "Why?"

Hinshu didn't necessarily hesitate in his reply, but it wasn't for lack of words or uncertainty she would turn away because they both knew that she had made up her mind in those few seconds, but still, the truth was like a punch in the gut.

"We're going to kill him, Shiori."

_--_

_So. Whaddya think? Good? Bad? (Points shamelessly to review button) Please, please, please review, I need feedback!_


	9. Section IV

"Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it." John Lennon

**Section IV**

She planned on giving him exactly what he needed seconds after he told her the truth, but first she wanted a little bit of insurance and she took a deep breath.

"I'll tell you everything I know about that house," Shiori told him, "I'll even tell you about every square foot of that property," he was beginning to smile and she couldn't help but imitate the gesture because this was all she could hold onto now and he had given her back her reason for living. _For Shuuichi_ was the returned mantra, pounding against the inside of her skull. "But first," and Hinshu tensed, immediately on edge, "I want you to promise me something."

He sounded upset or annoyed or both when he responded, "What, I won't kill his kid if he's there?"

And Shiori blanched, because she had forgotten about Suuichi and the situation turned awkward because, judging by the look on the psychic's face, he knew it too. But she recovered quickly, "That. But something else."

He waited for a moment and Shiori was struggling with what she really wanted and the air was heavy with tension and something else she didn't really understand, maybe respect but it was not as strong as she would think that would be, "I want," she finally said, her voice strong despite the sudden weakness to her stomach, "to go with you."

He stared incredulously and she tried not to blush, though judging by the way her face was burning she had failed miserably and then his eyebrow rose and he smirked, "You're joking, right?"

Shiori blinked and looked around the room she hadn't bothered to clean up, to the still torn up contents of her dresser, the upended mattress she was resting against, and then down to the hands that rested on her knees, curling so tightly into the fabric of her pajama pants that her knuckles were white and then over Hinshu's shoulder to catch a glimpse of a slightly harassed looking woman with unkempt hair, wild eyes, and a hint of a cracked smile on her face. She had left good house wife behind in a sitting room she loathed by dropping a book she wanted nothing more than to burn and running passed a man she had foolishly sworn to love until death. This was a new Shiori, a brave Shiori, and she'd be damned before she let herself down, "No. Either you bring me, or you figure out that house on your own."

Hinshu sort of gawked, but there was an undertone of suspicion dancing in his eyes and she wished, again, that she could know what he was thinking and he was biting his lip, deliberating. "Bring you?" he repeated twice, once, the first time, to himself, the second fired like a bullet from again, as if she could be dissuaded by words, he should have known better than to try. She nodded, quickly, firmly, vigorously, and he frowned. "Why should I trust you?" he demanded and she blinked, her composure shaken, "Give me one good reason."

But the answer was simple and she didn't even have to pluck up the courage to say it, "You came looking for me, remember?"

She could see the 'oh' forming behind his façade of cool and calm and collected and she smiled her triumph, because really, there was no arguing with that and he sighed heavily and ducked his head, "Fine, Shiori, you can come."

--

The drive there was short and she began to have misgivings fifteen minutes outside of town, not that she'd ever admit that to Hinshu after the show she had put on for him, of course. She caught glimpses of her pale face in the side mirror of the psychic's non-descript black sedan and grimaced at it and tried to make herself look younger and more put together, as the fact he had given her all of seven minutes to get ready to leave hadn't helped her fix her appearance at all. She thought about the bile that had risen in her throat when she had checked out of the inn and looked ahead, a familiar sensation bubbling up suddenly, though not unexpectedly and she stole a glance at him, just to make sure he hadn't noticed.

At this point, she was sort of forgetting why she had forced him to bring her and it was kind of awkward, being in that car. Hinshu wasn't looking at her at all, it was almost like he had forgotten she existed, and she decided that, if it came down to it, she would give him the information and run away again because the prospect of getting away from him was looking more and more appealing by the second.

--

They arrived at a warehouse she recognized and her stomach nearly rebelled on her then because this was just a little too real and killing her husband had excited her a few hours ago, but now actually doing it was more terrifying than the idea of facing a sea of pissed off psychics who were intent on her head.

The second the thought entered her head it occurred to her that that was probably not an unrealistic possibility and all thoughts of fleeing left her as she realized she owed these people this much.

They entered through a side door that had been obviously broken down recently and Shiori remembered that this warehouse had belonged to a man branded psychic before she had run away. She stepped over the twisted remains of the entrance and found herself literally and figuratively surrounded by dozens of angry gazes and she couldn't help it, she shrank backwards against Hinshu's chest and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"This is Shiori Minamino," he introduced her in a calm voice and all eyes flicked once to him before returning to her. She could feel the energy in the room rising and pushed herself further into Hinshu's chest and a dark haired, tall, and dangerous man stepped out from the group, glaring daggers into her chest.

"Shiori Hakatana, you mean," he snarled and the hand on her shoulder tightened and her back was suddenly flush against Hinshu's front.

"Daiki," he said softly, "She has come to help us."

If the look on this Daiki's face was any indication, and Shiori assumed it was, he either didn't believe what Hinshu was saying or he didn't care and, had Hinshu not been there, she would probably be dead. As it was, she felt rather ill and she had a feeling it was entirely the cause of nerves, seeing as there were psychics who could affect the body with their powers and she cast a quick and what she hoped was subtle look around, trying to pick out which one might be doing it, but they were all staring at her with more than a little hatred and she gave up the search after one once over of the group, realizing it was pointless. Hinshu's hand was strong on her shoulder and he began to walk her over to a large, rectangular table that sat in the center of the large and empty hundreds of square cement yards that stretched out before her. The rest of the psychics followed and circled around the table beneath a large, circular and flickering lamp that shone down from above them, the only real light the place afforded. Shiori glanced up at it, if only to avoid the burning stares that still surrounded her, and tried to focus on Hinshu's comforting presence at her back.

"Shiori," he said softly, his voice so close to her ear she felt the tickle of breath on the side of her neck, "Shiori, I need you to look at this."

She turned her gaze down to the table top and suddenly everything felt so real she staggered backwards into Hinshu as though she had been struck, her entire body quivering and her stomach rebelling and how had it come to this?

The man called Daiki sniggered cruelly.

"Oh, come on, woman," he hissed, "You volunteered, didn't you? All you have to do is point out the best way in and where he usually spends the hours between midnight and two in the morning."

Shiori was so close to vomiting it was all she could do to keep breathing.

"We'll do the rest," Hinshu whispered soothingly, his arm supporting her forward, back towards the table. Back towards the plans to her husband's home. Her step son's home. In some ways, her home.

So this was what it was to both love and hate someone.

A violent shudder wracked her body. Hinshu's hold on her tightened and she turned in his grasp, fumbling desperately to hold onto him, to keep herself real and she needed to see him, to remind herself why this was necessary and to remember what her husband had become. He stared back at her, holding her waist, understanding and uncertainty in his dark gaze, and she suddenly felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

"All you have to do is tell me how," he reminded her softly.


	10. Section V

Disclaimer: Don't own, never will, don't rub it in.

"Fear is not the natural state of civilized people." Aung San Suu Kyi

**Section V**

"This," Shiori pressed her finger against the map of the Hakatana mansion's grounds, clutching weakly at the edge of the table with the other and, as it was, still needing support from Hinshu to remain standing, his fingers wrapped firmly around her upper arms as he stood behind her, "is the best way to get onto the property," she was indicating the wooded area her son had loved so much when they had moved in, the area he had spent the most time in before he had left to build his own life and, she couldn't help but think, it was sort of fitting that her ex husband's assassins would enter from that place, from Shuuichi's place and she smiled weakly.

Daiki, catching the look and obviously still not satisfied with her loyalties or, perhaps, her lack thereof for them, hissed, "What, are there guards there?" and she looked up at him, all mild triumph draining from her, along with the remains of her strength. Her finger fell away from the map and Hinshu was suddenly her only support as her legs lost all feeling and distinction and she was almost on the floor now.

"No," she said in a small voice, "at least, there weren't before I left, but that was almost two months ago."

There was a low mumble from the watching group of psychics, they sounded nervous, not that she could blame them, as she was just realizing now how potentially inaccurate her information was and she tried to make her feet stand flat on the ground, but they just weren't cooperating and Hinshu's strong grip obviously was trustworthy, so she sank back into him, feeling ill. She could feel his heart beating, gentle against her shoulder blades, and she let it calm her as she stared into Daiki's furious, dark gaze, "This is insane, Hinshu, the woman has no idea what the grounds are like now, she said it herself!"

"It's the best we've got," the man behind her replied, his voice rumbling through her chest despite its low volume and she found herself nearly drowning in it again, as it was the only thing that felt real at this point and she needed something to be real, she was desperate for something real.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and felt him nod. He understood.

--

A woman with short hair, blue eyes, and a kind smile offered to let Shiori share her room about an hour later, after she had sat there uselessly, listening to bickering about whether the woods were a safer bet than going through the next door neighbor's yard and Hinshu pushed her gently into the woman's comforting presence and she found an arm slung around her shoulder and a hand pushing the hair out of her face, "My name's Akemi," the woman told her softly as she led her out of the throng of still glaring psychics and it was almost unnatural, how calm she felt now.

The room was down a dark hallway and to the left and, though the door didn't lock, the mattress was sagging, and the wallpaper-obviously a newer addition and a rather unattractive flowery pattern-was already peeling, but Shiori thanked Akemi profusely. The psychic smiled gently, touched her cheek again in the barest of brushes, and left, and then Shiori sat down, laid down, on that pathetic mattress and passed out from exhaustion and emotion and just plain _everything_.

--

She was woken after what felt like less than an hour later but was probably at least the rest of the night by a prod to her shoulder and she opened her eyes to find Hinshu crouching beside her bed, looking awkward and guilty and holding the map of her former home and her stomach, so calm after Akemi, almost rebelled again out of principle, "I need you to point out your step son's room," he said softly, "It took hours to talk Daiki out of killing him to. I thought it'd be best if you weren't there for that, if you'd been vocally against it, he'd have been for it."

Shiori blinked at him, blinked at the map, and pointed a shaking finger at the room that she had last seen Suuichi in and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, "Thanks."

He stood and turned to leave but she wrapped her fingers in the back of his long black coat and stared up at him in what she just knew was a pathetic way when he turned to look at her, "If you can," she begged softly, "Make it quick."

Hinshu nodded and he did understand.

--

Akemi wasn't a warrior apparently and stayed behind with a spattering of other psychics and, after Shiori saw the group-lead by Hinshu and Daiki and made up of twelve very angry soon to be killers-off she sat beside her, holding her hand and telling her that it was alright and, though it most certainly was _not_, Shiori sort of believed her. And she waited, her knuckles white on her pant legs, her stomach churning, and her eyes locked on the door, for their return and Daiki's sure to be vicious triumph and Hinshu's gentle grip on her shoulder and she fell into Akemi's arms, because she wasn't as strong as she'd thought.

After an hour she was sick, violently, in a bucket that a boy who looked around fourteen shoved under her face, as if he had predicted how ill she was over this and when she made the mistake of looking up at him, she saw Shuuichi and sobbed some more.

She wasn't still in love with Hakatana and that was what she had to keep telling herself to keep her lungs working.

Time was almost going backwards and Shiori was starting to get worried because it'd been _five hours_ and it didn't take that long to get to a house that was fifteen minutes away by _foot_, kill a man with no real defense-at least not against his soon to be assassins-and leave and this was starting to get a little too real again. She saw that Akemi was biting her lip and that the others in the large room were pacing and casting furtive looks at the door and her stomach was roiling again because if something had happened to the group-_to Hinshu_-it was _all her fault_.

She was sick again, though with less intensity than the last time, and she wasn't still in love with Hakatana.

The six hour mark hit and Akemi put her fingers on Shiori's eyelids, closing them gently, and whispered, "Sleep," and quite suddenly she did.

--

She woke up and there was fire and screaming and people in gray uniforms were swarming around and she was hidden behind the same boxes Akemi had put her to sleep on. Panic rose so fast she couldn't get up for a moment and, when she finally could, she was leaning heavily on the boxes and shaking and almost crying and staring as the psychics fought valiantly and ultimately fell to those guns, those guns that could destroy a psychics power and oh god, _oh god, OH GOD_ how had this happened?

Akemi was dodging those chemical bullets fifteen feet away and she saw that Shiori was standing at the same time that her attacker did and she shrieked at the top of her lungs, "_RUN_!" and so Shiori did because she was a follower, not a leader. Across the cement floor, around the fighting, through the broken down wooden doors and out into the cracked and grass-plagued parking lot and she was crying and sobbing and Hinshu was dead too, she just _knew_ it.

She tripped just off the warehouse property and fell flat on her face and felt blood on her cheek and a stinging pain on her forehead and didn't get up because it was over, all over, and she wasn't sure yet if it was her fault or not.

And then she _just lay there_, because she found detachment was better than existing.

--

Something cracked nearby hours later and she looked up and found herself staring into horribly red eyes.

She screamed, because they were just so _she-didn't-even-know_ and then lurched backwards and sort of crab crawled backwards and a man was advancing on her and he had a sword and looked angry, _very_ angry.

She tried to scream again, but he blurred out of sight and suddenly there was a hand clamped over her mouth and she froze, "Stop screaming, woman," he bit out and she could only stare up at him, horrified. He stared back, that horrible, frightening red stare, for a moment, before sighing, "I'm not going to hurt you," and he released her mouth and she swallowed hard.

"Who are you?" she squeaked and there were fresh tears running down her face, "What do you want with me?"

"Your son," the man snapped, "is the one who wants you."

--

A/N: FYI, I changed my penname from The Unconventional Lady to spicedcheese because I just felt like it one night and then I did it. So, I am not some person who just decided to steal a story, I am the Unconventional Lady (just new and improved and with a better penname).

And heyyyy…so I totally love my reviewers. You should like join them and stuff. Because it's totally awesome being on spicedcheese's favorite people list…you get…uh…well, nothing really, except for fanfiction, but STILL! You know you want to (points at review button).


	11. Chapter I

_So, you guys, dear readers, MAGNIFICENT REVIEWERS, are you ready for this? I think so. I HOPE so._

_Also, I didn't proof read this at all. Keep that in mind and let me know of any mistakes. I just wanted to post this because my access to internet may become…scarce…for the next few days. Moving back into college dorms tends to cause that._

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho. I do, however, own Hinshu and Daiki and Akemi and Shinri. So, uh, yeah.

And yes, Shinri is new. The name means truth. Read on for more.

"A strong woman is a woman determined to do something others are determined not be done." –Marge Piercey

**Chapter I**

"What is your name?"

Everything was fuzzy and she couldn't really remember how she had gotten in this huge and gray and disturbingly empty room and she grimaced as she looked around, because the lights on the ceiling were painfully bright.

"What is your name?" that horribly flat voice repeated and her eyes focused enough to take in the black square on the wall before her and everything came rushing back so fast she got kind of dizzy again and only the restraints holding her upper arms flush against the back of the chair she sat in kept her upright.

"You know my name," she managed to hiss and her voice was horribly hoarse from lack of use and she could have sworn she heard a soft cuss on the other side of that square, though it could have been her heavily drugged brain trying to make her feel better by creating such welcome sounds. She was sure that was why she felt like she had lost so much time, she must have been drugged for weeks for stabbing that prison guard with the metal chip she'd managed to pick off of her bed, and part of her wasn't all that unhappy about it.

Shizuru had lived in hell for two weeks before she'd nearly killed that man, after all and she'd be lying if she said she missed it.

--

"W-what?" Shiori choked, stumbling unsteadily to her feet, "Sh-shuuichi?"

The man, who she noticed now that she was upright and standing, was considerably shorter than she was, glared at her as if she was stupid and for a split second she agreed with him before she remembered that she didn't know who he was, if he was a liar, or what he really wanted.

"Yes, _Shuuichi_," he said the name as if it absolutely disgusted him and she couldn't help but shrink backwards a half step, "He asked me to bring you to him and so I will," he moved closer and, to her horror and embarrassment, a tiny squeak erupted from her traitorous lips and he stopped again and scowled, "_What_ is your problem now?"

She was terrified, near the point of paralysis because of it, and yet by some miracle she managed to make her mouth move and whispered, "Who are you? Why didn't Shuuichi come himself?"

In truth, Shiori wasn't even sure she so readily believed him in that her son was still alive, although she had a feeling it had something to do with the hope she had continued to harbor, even after Hinshu had basically confirmed Shuuichi's death, that they were both wrong, that he'd somehow survived, and that he had been searching for her all along. The man stared at her for a long moment before, to her shock, rolling his eyes in a remarkably human gesture and turning away, his hand firm on the handle of his katana.

"He was otherwise occupied when he got the news that the psychics you were with had been discovered and asked that I come in his stead," he spoke as if he hadn't been all that pleased about the request and Shiori's knees nearly gave out on her again, "Now hurry, he is waiting."

She took a slow step forward and he turned back so suddenly she squeaked again and tumbled to the ground, landing with little grace on her back and suddenly he was standing over her, looking horribly disdainful. He offered his hand mutely and she was too scared to take it and, with a literal snarl of frustration that nearly sent her over the edge he bent down, grabbed her roughly by the arm, and threw her over her shoulder.

"Wait," she shrieked and he started stalking into the trees surrounding them, "Stop, what're you—?"

"Shut up," he hissed so violently her voice deserted her.

--

"Kuwabara," the voice, decidedly an angry male this time rather than the comforting female one that had tried with her when she'd initially been thrown in this hell hole of a prison, "I am going to give you one last chance to answer my question."

Shizuru shrugged nonchalantly, or rather as much as her restraints would allow her and looked directly at the center of that ugly black square and actually managed a smirk around her still fogged brain, "Fire away," she said in what she hoped was a lazy tone because really, if she couldn't bait them like this she'd go absolutely insane. The man on the other side of the square let out an angry hiss and she was sure she thought she heard a fist hitting something solid and it sounded like it was a metal table and she hoped it hurt like a bitch.

"_Where is Shuuichi Minamino?_"

Really, she probably shouldn't have found the question funny but they'd been springing it on her so much in the days, weeks, months, she'd lost track that she'd been here and they had to _know _by now that she'd never, ever answer it and this was sort of getting stupid at this point. She started to snicker and the guard her vision had finally allowed her to see in the far corner started to bare his teeth and shift as though he wanted to strike her and half of her wanted him to do it, so she winked at him. He made it halfway across the five feet separating them before the Interrogator's shouts of, "STOP!" got through to him and he breathed heavily when he did, leaning forward and twitching his fingers and the vein in his thick, short neck was pulsing wildly.

"Little bitch," he hissed before stepping backwards and Shizuru merely grinned, feeling rather pleased with her latest performance in the fabled Interrogation Chambers and eager for some more. The Interrogator let out a breath she heard through the black square and she looked back at it and lifted an eyebrow and waited with what she hoped was a cocky expression.

"You think you've got us beat, don't you, Kuwabara?" the Interrogator whispered and Shizuru would have confirmed it if she hadn't heard a tone to his voice that made her stomach feel rather ill and her blood rather cold and he chuckled because, to her horror, it must have shown on her face.

The door behind her swung open and she heard something large and heavy and obviously dangerous being dragged in and the guard was smirking in a horrible way and her heart began to pound and this had _never_ happened to her before and, as far as she knew from her sources within the cell block, it'd never happened to anyone else either. A soft chuckle sounded from the other side of the black square and her stomach started churning and she wished she could go back to being drugged again because really, it was the only way to survive this place.

--

The man-her son's _ally_, she had to keep reminding herself over the howl of the wind-ran her through the forest, up and _over_ the _roof tops_ of a _city_ she didn't recognize, and into the mountains and didn't stop until the sun was starting to rise. He finally halted, to her surprise, outside the remains of a beautiful temple and just dumped her there on the ground and strode towards the building-which looked as though something large had fallen onto its roof and caved the majority of it in-and shouted, "Kurama!"

Who Kurama was and what this temple was and what was going to happen to her were all beyond her and really, she was in too much shock to really do anything about the situation she suddenly found herself in and she sort of didn't care. If these men, this _Kurama_, could bring her to her son then she'd risk bodily harm, death, whatever, for the chance because it'd seemed so impossible only a day ago and she just needed to hold onto this hope, because everything else-_everyone _else-was dead and gone.

She heard the footsteps and didn't look up, but when the voice sounded, she wished she had, just so she could have watched him walking towards her.

"Mother."

--

Shizuru was shaking and her heart was pounding and the damn Interrogator was _laughing_ and god, she wished she could just kill him like she had half the bastards who'd come for her in Kurama's apartment.

"When it was delivered, everyone on staff agreed we should test it on _you_," the Interrogator purred and part of her wished she could just turn and look to get it out of the way but her restraints held her facing the black square and she cursed at it, just to try and stem her nerves. "What your language, Shizuru. You wouldn't want to make this any worse on yourself than it's already going to be."

The activity behind her stopped and she stared ahead of her, breathing heavily, and her stomach was starting to revolt and she really hoped she'd puke when they started to hook whatever they'd just brought in up to her.

"They call it, simply, Shinri," the Interrogator said softly and suddenly there were wires being taped to her arms and they stayed behind her and she couldn't goddamned see it and this was getting to be too much.

The guard smirked at her, "Shinri doesn't make you tell the truth, you know," he said softly and she would've relaxed if the man hadn't looked so sadistic, "It gets the truth for itself."

A monitor was dragged forward and positioned so both she and the Interrogator could see it and that was it, it was too much and she puked all over the floor in front of her. Both men laughed. They _laughed._

But they didn't understand and she'd never wanted to die this much in her life because everything that had happened so far, all the Trackers, the prisons, the killings, the collapsing governments, the wars, _everything_ would have nothing on what was about to happen. If that monitor meant what she was sure it meant and what the guard had said was the truth, she was powerless and once it was activated, there would be no going back. Humanity had reached a line, a dangerous line, a line they'd been protected from for centuries, millennia, because it was obvious they couldn't handle the truth as a species. And it was obvious from the smirk on the guard's face, the laughter coming from behind the black square, and what civilization had become that they would cross it without a second thought.

This, _this_ was the end of the world.

--

A/N: Er. Yeah. Shit hit the fan right there, didn't it? I mean, it may not be _too _clear yet, but I figure the monitor might make it obvious.

So review for more, because it gives me inspiration.


	12. Chapter II

_And those who expected lightning and thunder_

_Are disappointed.__  
__And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps__  
__Do not believe it is happening now.__  
__As long as the sun and the moon are above,__  
__As long as the bumblebee visits a rose__  
__As long as rosy infants are born__  
__No one believes it is happening now._

_-Song on the End of the World by Czeslaw Milosz_

I do NOT own Yu Yu Hakusho.

**Chapter II**

Shiori didn't turn her head right away simply because she was afraid she'd shatter her hallucination and she was sure that that would push her over the proverbial edge. Instead she remained crouched on the ground and created tiny divots with her scraping, shaking fingers and stared out across the vast, ruined temple grounds without really seeing.

"Shuuichi," she whispered, emotionless.

"Mother," that voice repeated, "Mother, I—"

He broke off and she could hear something akin to regret in his surprisingly even tone and it was obvious that he was struggling, because Shuuichi never let his thoughts slide into his words. Still, she didn't look up, despite the fact that he was slowly moving closer and she could literally feel the heat of his body and his presence and this had been what she'd wanted, hadn't it? Still, she felt so detached, so horribly removed from the situation, and she couldn't put her finger on why.

There was a silence and they stayed that way, stationary and unsure, and she couldn't think of how to proceed because it was obvious to her now and everything was about to change.

--

"No," Shizuru looked desperately up into the black square and willed her breathing to remain steady and tried not to appear too terrified, "No."

The monitor was still blank, there was still time, and she needed to stop this, _needed to_. The guard sniggered at her protestations, however, and she could see the faceless man's smirk in her mind's eye when the black square replied, "Don't be an idiot, Kuwabara, Shuuichi Minamino is a huge risk to the safety of humanity."

She would have laughed, had she not been feeling so sick, because these idiots had no fucking clue as to the part _Shuuichi Minamino _had played in the past in regards to the _safety of humanity_. That he was directly responsible for their stupid future in the first place. It was sort of ironic, in a really twisted way, that one of their saviors would be among the most condemned when their race was left to their own devices and she had to swallow down more stomach acid because it was just so _wrong._

"Please," she whispered in one final, sort of pathetic attempt, "Please, you don't understand."

"Oh, we understand," the guard jeered and she slumped as much as her restraints would allow and looked up again at the still blank monitor. It was funny, when considering everything she'd been through, that her first thought was that she'd always thought the world would end with a literal bang or fire or screaming or a flood or at least something remotely resembling cataclysmic. Disgustingly funny, how they'd finally reached the end of the line and, with the push of a button, a _picture_ would destroy them all. She couldn't help it.

Shizuru threw back her head and laughed.

--

"I'm sorry I didn't come for you," Shuichi said softly and finally, "I'm sorry."

Shiori already knew that and she already knew why and she was sure she was right about all of it and how she hadn't seen it before was beyond her. She found herself turning her head without really thinking about it and there he was, the son she was so sure she'd lost forever, standing there and gazing at her sadly, miserably, his hands hanging limply at his sides and his eyes, so green and so vast, trained on her. She swallowed hard.

"Where is she?"

Shuichi's expression flickered to something ugly, something dangerous, something that she had never seen before and never wanted to see again. Just as quickly it was gone, but it was like the image was permanently burned into the backs of her eyelids and she realized she'd never really known him, the man before her. Not as a child and certainly not now that he was an adult.

"Prison. We've been unable to determine which, just that it's in the northern part of the country," he knelt and brushed her hair away from her face, "Did he hurt you?"

"No, I didn't give him the chance. And I'm sorry," she leaned into his soft touch and he cupped her cheek and smiled weakly.

"Believe me mother, you are the last person I would ever blame for this."

Shiori's chest constricted and the now familiar feeling of self loathing boiled up from the back of her mind.

Shuuichi was far too generous.

--

The guard backhanded her smartly across the face.

Still, Shizuru did not stop laughing and if anything, this made everything even more hysterical. Her chin fell and she continued to giggle with what must have been insanity, but she was too high on the feeling to be sure. She heard the guard move again, knew he was probably raising his hand and that this time he wouldn't be holding back or whatever and that he'd probably try to knock out teeth or something, but then something broke the strange fog that had settled over Shizuru's dying world, a soft noise that made her realize just how disgustingly un-funny everything had become. Her head jerked back up and she stared at the black square as it happened again, a tiny, soft noise that spoke louder than a shriek and at that moment, she'd never been more disgusted with the human race.

A sob, shaky and wordless, insubstantial and helpless, drifting forward from the space behind her, the area she had been under the impression held a machine. Shinri.

The guard was in the corner of her vision and he was glaring at whatever was behind her and his lips curled up, baring his teeth fiercely, "_Shut up_, whelp," he hissed and there was her confirmation. Shizuru wanted to puke again, but she was sure that she had nothing left in her stomach and the dry heaves that struck her then only confirmed it.

_Oh God_, what had the world become?

--

"You're a psychic, aren't you?" Shiori asked.

She had decided the second he had appeared that this was the truth and that she would mince no moments in confirming it, because she was his _mother_, for God's sake. Really, he should have told her ages ago, whenever he had figured it out or at least _something_ like that, and preferably before she had meant Hakatana so her husband—ex husband, perhaps would not have been so quick to jump on the anti-psychic train. But he hadn't and, while she knew he would probably stop hiding it, she got the distinct feeling that he would not speak of it if she did not demand it.

Shuuichi drew in a deep breath.

"Something like that," he whispered.

She nodded and didn't press him because really, she was sort of still in shock and she wanted to take things one step at a time. He seemed to understand because he didn't elaborate, he just sat there and stared at her, waiting for her to lead the conversation that should have happened years ago and she looked back, trying to find words, to find something to say.

"That man," she said and her voice cracked, betraying her fear at the memory, "Who was he?"

"A friend," Shuuichi glanced back at the ruined temple over his shoulder and they both saw that the short, angry creature was perched on the caved in roof and staring out over the forest that stretched out behind the grounds, "His name is Hiei. I'm sorry I didn't come myself; I had to…speak with someone. It was urgent."

Hiei cast them a look that was so obviously disdainful, even from a distance, and Shiori watch her son frown slightly in response, as though reprimanding him and then his big green eyes were back on her and he smiled weakly, as though waiting for her to continue and she swallowed hard, "And Kurama?"

Again, a look that she never wanted to see the like of again passed through her son's eyes—guilt, powerful, congealed guilt—and he glanced away for a moment as if he needed to regain control over himself and his hands, which had found hers without her realizing, tightened a fraction, "I am Kurama."

Shiori took a deep breath, because it was obvious in his manner and in the way he said it that this was something serious, this other name, and that it would be too much for her to handle now. Instead of pursuing it, she clutched back at Shuuichi's—Kurama's hands and drew his gaze to hers with the desperation in her voice, "Shuuichi, what happened at Hakatana's home last night?"

His jaw tightened and the air deserted her lungs.

--

"Kuwabara," the Interrogator said softly and almost sweetly and it was more than a little disturbing, "I have given you far more chances than you deserve. Your time is up."

Shizuru had sworn to herself the second the door to Kurama's apartment had been blasted down that she would never let these bastards see her cry and, despite all the months she'd fought, despite everything she'd withstood, everything they'd put her through and everything she'd survived, it was nothing compared to all consuming agony of this moment. She betrayed herself so softly, so gently, and she found herself wishing she could have just started wailing or sobbing or even throwing a tantrum. Anything would have been better than that solitary tear that was sliding so innocently down her cheek, her one, frightened tribute to what was behind her. Another choke sounded and this one was so small, so feeble, so feminine and Shizuru bit her lip as the small droplet reached her jaw line.

The monitor flickered once and the guard snorted.

"Surely," he directed the words over her shoulder, "you can do better than that. Don't make me hit you."

And this time, to Shizuru's absolute devastation, there was a word in the sob.

"_Please_."

Shinri.

A little girl.

--

A/N: Not going to lie, I was kind of really upset at the end of this chapter. Like, really. Man, their lives totally suck. And it's my fault, which is why I think I was so miserable when I typed that last line. God, I'm kind of a bitch.

So, review. Tell me what you think of my dramaagnsttortureeveryone fest. I'd really, really appreciate it.


	13. Chapter III

_The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of the final moment; but it is no less a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy. _- John F. Kennedy

**Chapter III**

"Hakatana is alive," Shuichi's gaze was downcast and Shiori's stomach clenched because of all the scenarios she had imagined, only the worst had ended like that and she could feel it, her most terrible fears were about to be confirmed. She swallowed and Shuichi's hand was on her shoulder and there was a heavy pause, a miserable sort of pause and she was having trouble looking at him again.

"Hinshu?" she heard herself ask, though she hadn't made the decision nor had she pushed her lips to form the words and Shuichi gave her a moment, a long moment to gather her thoughts and fully brace herself and really, it wasn't a pleasant sensation, having your heart try to beat its way out of your ribs.

"Captured," he spoke in barely a whisper and she felt lightheaded and grounded all at the same time and the contradiction nearly had her unconscious, "all of them were. They were taken for interrogation; we believe they've been transported to the same prison as—"

He broke off then and his grip was tightening to the point of painful but he didn't seem to notice or care and she didn't really mind either because it made her feel alive and they stared at each other for a long moment and there was this gentle breeze and the trees were ruffled and it was strange, seeing such peace in a world that had turned to chaos. Shiori swallowed hard and the question escaped her before she could think it through, much less stop it.

"You're going to that prison, aren't you?"

Shuichi's eyes took on a dark look and the breath caught in her lungs and she was suddenly sure: if there was anyone who could stand against these people, stand against Hakatana and his men, if there was anyone who stood a chance—

It was her son.

--

There was an image blurring into existence on the screen now.

She recognized Kazuma, although he was much younger and she was most definitely chasing him with something that had him screaming obscenities over his shoulder at her and she swallowed back another sob. Times like those, she realized, she'd let go of them so quickly, she'd ignored them and made the decision to grow up before she really should have. All of them had, her, Kazuma, Yusuke, certainly Kurama, he'd had no childhood at all, and they should have _cherished _it, damn it, but they'd been too stupid and too determined to be adults as children and it was so _ridiculous_. Shizuru was nearly overcome by the powerful surge of longing and the sorrow for days passed and long forgotten, but she bit her lip and stared hard at the screen and willed it, begged it, to go black again.

There was a flicker, the scene changed, and she found herself staring at Kurama.

A sob that wasn't hers tore its way through the room, a low, shaky noise that rocked her to her very core and she wished she could look back, wished she could see Shinri or whoever she was and tell her that it was okay, that this foolishness, this _sin_, it wasn't her fault.

"Ah," said the man behind the black square and Shizuru's breath caught, "Mr. Minamino."

For the first time: relief. She'd been so terrified, so worried she'd somehow reveal Kurama to them and make things just _that much worse_ by setting them on him that she'd forgotten that she didn't know where he was, didn't know what he was doing, who he was with, or what his plans were and it was like a weight off her shoulders, albeit a small one, and she exhaled roughly, turning her hungry eyes on the screen, on that powerful, angry green gaze, desperate for the sight of him and determined to get as much of a fix as she could from this shadow of the man she loved—

His face blurred once, twice, and was replaced by static.

"WHAT?" the guard roared.

--

"Kurama."

It was the man with the angry red eyes, Hiei, and he was approaching and looking annoyed and worried and murderous and Shiori couldn't help it, she scooted closer to her son and resisted the urge to hide behind him entirely as she watched him come to a halt with his arms folded and his upper lip curling dangerously.

"Hiei," Shuuichi said tiredly and looked up at him and Hiei's scowl grew more pronounced.

"What did Koenma say?" he snarled with obvious frustration and she realized he'd been made to wait while she and Shuuichi had spoken, then stared at each other, then spoken and stared some more and she swallowed, wishing she'd had the presence of mind to talk faster or something. Shuuichi met his gaze calmly but she swore his shoulders tensed and she could see his fingers digging into the dirt beneath them and her breath caught because that couldn't mean anything good, after all.

"He told me to stand down," was his soft reply and the underlying anger in his words was so palpable even Shiori, who'd never been able to tell, not with him, could hear it and she could feel the bile rising in her throat because he could only be talking about one thing—

"Fool," Hiei said disdainfully and turned away and she swore she saw Shuuichi's lips twitch into the tiniest of bitter smiles.

"I suppose that means you're with me then?" he asked mildly and Shiori looked between them and Hiei smirked and folded his arms over his black cloak and turned away.

"Of course I'm with you," he replied, "Because this is out of Koenma's chubby hands and he knows it."

"Yes," Shuuichi glanced at her, then at the sky and this time, the smile was large and almost manic and Shiori realized for the first time just how much she _didn't know_, "He knows it."

--

"Bring that _back_, whelp!" the guard spun away from the television and began to stalk towards the child Shizuru was now sure was sitting behind her and raising his hand and she struggled, throwing her head back, rocking her body as hard as she could in her tight restraints, trying to fight against the poison they'd pumped into her, the stupid chemical ward, and force her energy out. It was useless and a sharp crack sounded and the smallest of cries and the screen flickered once, a simple flash of white, before going dark again.

"Girl," said the voice behind the black box, sounding a mix of indulgent, understanding, and completely and utterly furious and Shizuru almost smirked as she thrashed, simply because he was such an _idiot_, and no child would fall for _that_ tone, "stop this nonsense. Access her thoughts. Now."

There was a pause, the screen flickered again, the kind of residue found on old video cassettes that had been watched too many times and then the hair on the back of Shizuru's neck stood up. The guard was still beside her now, facing the child, and she realized—

It was too still.

--

Shuuichi stood and offered his hand to Shiori and she took it and let him pull her effortlessly to her feet, swaying slightly when he let go, still lightheaded from all she had heard and all she had guessed and really, she was surprised her brain hadn't completely given out from the effort. She swallowed hard, watching as Hiei adjusted the belt that held his sword to his hip and Shuuichi dusted invisible dust off of his simple jean and t shirt combination and the actions looked so normal that for one second she doubted them. But then the short man turned back with this wicked grin on his face and said, "I'm going to get Yusuke," and literally _blurred out of sight._

Shiori clapped a hand to her mouth but failed to muffle her small scream and Shuuichi smiled weakly and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mother," he said softly, "he does that sometimes."

--

"Girl," the guard growled and was greeted by silence.

The screen was still flickering, but somehow Shizuru knew that it was a ploy because something was happening behind her, something slow, something steady, and something explosive. The hair on her arms was rising now and her stomach was churning and every sense in her body was screaming at her that this _wasn't safe_. The wires that connected her to the girl behind her suddenly felt warm and the lights suddenly seemed muted and the screen looked distorted and there was a sharp intake of breath from the man behind the black box and then she couldn't help it, a breathless laugh escaped her in her anticipation_._

"Don't—," came crackling through the speakers in a voice that was such a contrast to its earlier calm, that was so panicked it cracked like a pubescent boy's and shook with obvious fear. Then there was another silence and Shizuru had only a second to wonder why before the lights above her failed and the television went dead.

"What's happening?" the guard's voice was closer to her now and his hand brushed her arm, as if he thought she could protect him in the state he'd put her in himself, and even in the darkness, she could feel it, the slow movement at her back, the pulse of bonds being broken, the beat of silent footsteps on the concrete floor. Energy slammed into her, a residue from the escape that had just taken place and a momentary, white blindness took her eyes, and she was sure she would fly to pieces. And then as quickly as it had come it disappeared, leaving her shaking violently and breathing heavily and she could feel the wires leaving her skin, could feel tiny hands sliding across her forehead in silent apology and she nodded her understanding.

The heavy leather strap on her left arm shifted, then vanished.

She lifted her hand, flexed her quivering fingers, and smiled.

--

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! I was really busy and had no time to write and then when I finally finished it I hated it, so I reworked it, but then still hated it, so I reworked it again, and I'm still annoyed with it and I still dislike it, but I hate it less, so I guess that's all that matters, yeah?

Read and review!


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